Love Comes To Those Who Believe
by Stemwinder
Summary: In Susan Kay's novel "Phantom" Erik asks Christine to marry him, and she could not find the courage within her to answer. And then the wheels in my mind started turning, what if she had found the courage to say yes? *Complete!*
1. Prologue: A Proposal

_Love Comes To Those Who Believe_

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Disclaimer:  I own nothing that does not reside in my own imagination . . . Gaston Leroux created the tale of the _Phantom Of The Opera.  Many writers have taken that tale and given a piece of themselves to it, I merely do the same.  The novel I quote from is __"Phantom" written by Susan Kay.  _

Premise:  In Susan Kay's novel _"Phantom" Erik draws up the courage to ask Christine to marry him.  In the novel, she could not find the courage within her to answer, and Erik wound up sending Christine away telling her not to answer then, to give him her answer tomorrow.  And then the wheels in my mind started turning, what if she had found the courage to say yes?_

Starts out in first person as written by Susan Kay and then goes into third when I pick up the story.  There are still one or two lines afterward that I did borrow from _Phantom._

~~~~~  indicates flashbacks

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****

****

**Prologue:  A Proposal**

_I stayed in my room today until the continuing, crushing silence drove me out._

_Erik looked up when I entered his chamber, but he did not speak, even when I knelt at his feet.  When the minutes continued to tick away in deadly stillness, I realized that his voice had become, for me, a drug as powerful as morphine, necessary to my senses, vital to my existence.  His silence was a punishment beyond my strength to bear._

_"Erik, if you don't speak to me soon I shall go quite mad!"  I said at last.  "I can't bear to be locked up here with only my own thoughts for company."_

_His hands tightened on the arms of his chair._

_"Locked up?"  He echoed, with horror.  "Is that what this house has come to mean to you – a prison?"_

_"It's not a prison,"  I said slowly,  "until you make it so.  But you've frightened me so badly this last week, Erik, I feel I hardly know you."_

_"No," – he sighed – "you are just beginning to know me, that's all.  There's so much darkness here inside my head, sometimes it frightens me too.  But it need not be like this, Christine.  If I could just live like other men, walk through the Bois in daylight and feel the sun and wind upon my naked face . . . Oh Christine, I would do to dare so many things if you were beside me as my wife."_

She paused, unsure of how to answer.  Certainly she'd realized that inevitably he might ask this of her, but she hadn't thought he would be willing to break that last wall down so soon.  She thought she had prepared herself for this day, but now that it was here, she didn't know how to respond.

Giving up the light above and spending her days in darkness with Erik seemed by turns exhilarating and frightening.  Could there be a way to truly merge their two worlds of dark and light?

And what of Raoul?  He sincerely believed that she was in love with him, and perhaps there was a love, but it was not the type of love she held for Erik.  Not by a half.  How could she even begin to explain the inner battle she was facing?  The want to say yes, and yet the fear of doing so?

Erik broke the silence, mistaking it for a negative,  "I see you do not care for my voice half so well when it speaks of things you do not wish to hear.  Simple words can be reduced to obscenities by my tongue, can they not?  **_Wife . . . husband . . . love.__"_**

Yet she still could not bring herself to speak, not even to spare him this torment.  Perhaps the inner torment she faced was similar to what he must be facing._  'No, why is it I can not bring myself to reassure him now, when he is at his most vulnerable?'_

"If you fear a reprise of yesterday, Christine, I promise you, I would never . . ."  Erik trailed off, watching her closely.  "I would agree to any terms you wish."

_'He truly believes I mean to deny him!'  Christine's mind shouted.  __'To deny him a husband's rights!__  To deny him my bed.'  The sadness of his plea finally sprung her from the lethargy she felt when he first asked, yet it was a mere second too long before that temper came back to the fore._

"I won't beg!"  He shouted.  "Not even for your love.  You don't have to give me an answer now, in fact, I think I would prefer you didn't."

"What if I told you I was ready to give you an answer?"  Christine challenged, standing up straight to finally face him.  "If I told you I don't want to wait to give you my answer?"

She heard Erik's quick intake of breath, and realized it was the first time she'd truly challenged him.  She saw his anger recede behind the wall he so often used to shield his heart.  Several moments passed in silence as he reined in his anger and tried to hide his anticipation and the feral fear that was now coursing through him.  When he finally spoke, it was softly,  "As you wish."

Christine moved toward him slowly, and as she reached him, her eyes looked down in shyness at his hands.  Such normal hands, hands that looked alive and warm.  She'd been so close to reaching out to touch his hand once, and now stood on the precipice of finally inviting touch between them.  The moment of silence as she steeled her courage inside her dragged endlessly as she slowly reached through the darkness and touched his hand, lightly brushing it at first with her own, then finally taking it within her smaller one.

She looked up into his eyes, and saw within the hopes and fears mixing in his eyes behind the mask.

"Do you really believe I could deny you?"  Christine whispered, breaking the silence in the lair.

Erik gulped in the air, scarcely believing what he was hearing.  "Should I take that to mean you will marry me?"

A serene smile played across her face as her lips whispered the word she knew would change her life forever.  "Yes, Erik, I will marry you."

The eyes behind the mask alighted with joy as the man who had spent a lifetime in darkness finally realized that sometimes, dreams can come true.  Yet a part of him still had to ask,  "And your . . . your conditions?"

"Does love ask for a condition before being born in our hearts?"  Christine asked.

As if it was more than he could possibly have hoped for, he asked,  "You mean . . ."  and trailed off again, unable to come completely out with his question, the one that they both knew would totally expose him to rejection.

"Erik, you are the most intelligent, most talented man I have ever known, but you seem to be blind when it comes to matters of the heart.  You truly can not see what is staring you in the face, can you?"

"I . . . I hadn't dared to hope that it could be, Christine.  Oh, I wanted it to be, but I never dared hope."

She knew he would never ask again, and her chance to tell him was now.  Her voice soft and quiet, she said,  "Erik, I love you."

For the first time in his life, Erik smiled, a true smile born of happiness and love.  "I love you, Christine."

Christine brought her free hand to the bare side of his face and gently caressed his cheek, an action which Erik finally mirrored.

And the two stood there in wonderment for a long time before Erik finally found the courage to lower his lips to hers.

****

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	2. Chapter One: When You Want It The Most

**Chapter One:  When You Want It The Most**

The next morning Christine awoke to find herself on the couch in the house beyond the lake, entwined in Erik's arms.

_'It wasn't a dream then,'  she thought.  __'He really did ask me to marry him, and I really did say yes.'_

Wonderment ran through her at the thought.  For so long, she had been so afraid of him asking, afraid she could never find the courage to say yes.  And yet she had.  No longer a shrinking violet, she now felt like a vibrant sunflower as the love she'd known was there surged through her heart.

They had talked long into the night about how to go about the preparations.  He knew as well as she did that it would be difficult to find a priest to marry them, even if he was not totally honest about his past.  She could still remember when she asked him his last name.

**~~~~~**

_"Erik, you've never told me your last name."_

_Erik's head shot up like a start, never having even thought of that one little incongruity.  "I suppose that's because I've never used it."_

_Christine looked on him with wide eyes.  That had never occurred to her, her own last name was as much a part of her as her first.  But she knew now she was to share Erik's name.  "I know this question is going to sound ridiculous, but, do you remember?"_

_The sharp intake of breath answered her before he could do so with words.  "No, my mother, we . . . we never discussed it.  The only people who ever came to the house called her only by her given name."_

_"Do you have a birth certificate?  Baptismal certificate?  I'm fairly sure that both of those are a necessity to getting married."_

_Erik bowed his head.  "I'm afraid, my dear, that neither of those were celebrated events in my childhood home."_

_Christine's eyes clouded with sadness for the life she knew he must have lead as a child.  She reached out and took his hand once more in her own,  "We will find some way around it, I'm sure.  There has to be some way."_

**~~~~~**

And she'd meant it.  Of course, there were other things she didn't dare discuss with him, mostly how to break the news to Raoul that she was to marry Erik.  She knew he would take it hard, for he truly believed himself in love with her, and she with him.  And it had taken Christine some time to realize the difference between the two.  To realize there was a difference between loving and being in love.  And Erik, in his limited experience with that emotion, would likely not understand the difference.

She also knew that marrying Erik, and being true to herself, meant she would have to cut all ties with her childhood friend.  Surely there was no way that Erik could understand any type of relationship between her and Raoul.

And she needed to give Raoul back his ring.

_"I don't mind if you feel you have to hide it for now,"  he said.  "You and I have kept secrets since we were ten years old."_

She hadn't the strength to deny Raoul then, not when he was his most persuasive and charming.  But now, now that she admitted to Erik that she loved him, now that she'd agreed to marry him, she could not in good conscience keep that ring.

_'But enough of that for now,'  Christine thought as she drew herself closer to him.  __'When I go back up today for rehearsal will be soon enough to worry about facing him.__  Right now, just enjoy being with Erik.'_

She tried to close her eyes and just enjoy the sensation, but as soon as her lids fluttered closed, she felt his body tense beside her.  And heard his almost unbelieving whisper,  "Christine."

She smiled at the reverence with which he said her name, and replied,  "Good morning."  And then she maneuvered slightly to face him.  "Did you sleep well?"

She saw the smile play across his lips, the smile she had so rarely seen before the previous night.  "Likely better than I ever have."

"I'm glad,"  Christine whispered, and as she did, Erik grasped her hand and brought it to his lips.

_"Tu es mon couer,"  he whispered._

_"Je t'adore, mon ange,"  Christine replied in kind._

"The company has practice today?"

"Yes."

"At what time?"

"We start at one today,"  Christine answered.

Erik glanced over to the clock on the mantelpiece, the one reminder that there was a world above that ran on time.  "You should start getting ready then, _mon__ cherie.  We both slept much later than normal."_

Christine nodded, and they both slowly yet reluctantly rose from the comfort of each other's arms.

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She arrived in her dressing room an hour early for rehearsal, part of her hoping that Raoul would stop by as he had during that week they had played at being a happy couple, part dreading the possibility of having to face him this soon.

She'd been careful to retrieve the ring from where it had snagged on the wedding dress, the dress she'd worn the night before Erik proposed to her.  When she'd started to change this morning and discovered the chain around her neck had disappeared, she'd been half frantic, not wanting Erik to know of her short lived disloyalty.

The days since Raoul gave her that ring, days filled at first with silence as she recovered from her cold, and then the trip to the Bois . . . the meeting with Raoul there.  Perhaps he had already given up.  It may very well be she had to seek him out.

"Christine!"  the tiny voice of Meg Giry called from outside the open dressing room door.  "We'd heard you were ill!"

"It was nothing, merely a cold,"  Christine assured her.

"Your Vicomte has been dragging around here for most of the past week looking for you,"  Meg announced.

Christine's head snapped quickly to face Meg.  "Most?"

"Yes, he did not appear yesterday, we'd thought perhaps he'd found you."

"Oh,"  Christine sighed, somewhat relieved yet disappointed.

"So he didn't find you then.  Christine, where were you?"

Christine moved as if she were going to speak, but decided at the last moment to hold her piece.  Raoul had the right to hear from her that she was going to marry another.  There was no reason he should have to learn from the gossip of the corps de ballet.

"Christine?"  Meg asked once more, and then paused to study her friend's face.  "Your eyes are alight in a way I haven't seen them in a long time, yet you're holding back from me?  Why?"

"Oh Meg, when it is time to tell all, you will be the first here to know, I promise you!"

"Yet you can not confide in me now?"

"Not yet, Meg, not yet.  There is one person who I have to speak to first, then, I promise, I will explain to you."

Meg smiled gently,  "I suppose that will have to do, won't it?"

Both girls started when they heard a knock at the door, and Meg spun to face it as the door opened and Madame Giry entered.

"Meg Giry, I do believe you are a dancer, are you not?"

"Yes, Maman."

"Rehearsal for dancers starts at noon.  You're late!"

"Yes Maman,"  Meg placated as she ran out the door.  She paused, and peeped her head back in,  "You know where to find me when it's time, Christine!"

Christine nodded her assurance as the little dancer disappeared into the shadows.

The dance matron turned her attention to Christine,  "This is for you."  She took a letter out of her pocket and handed it to Christine, and then turned and left the room.

Christine opened the note, and read it twice as the meaning sunk in.

_Christine,_

_I know for sure now that you will likely never return to read this, yet I still feel compelled to write.  Partly to apologize and beg your forgiveness, partly because I pray that in doing so that I can restore even a semblance of peace to my shattered soul._

_Tonight I saw you on the Bois, and I know it was Erik who accompanied you.  I'm sure you were completely repulsed by the behavior of my companions, as I was as well.  And tonight I had a visitor, your Erik, and I'm afraid I acted dishonorably.  He obviously meant me no harm, or I no doubt would not be here yet to tell you this, but in my misplaced sense of honor, I feel I did a rather idiotic thing.  I shot at him, and I would not doubt that one of my bullets grazed him as he walked away._

_I've spent several hours since he disappeared trying to make sense of my own actions, his, and yours as well.  I am not a gentleman as I used to believe myself to be.  Tonight I reduced myself down to his level by shooting at his back.  I can no longer consider myself worthy of your love, if you ever did love me at all.  When we last spoke, you could not be certain of your feelings for Erik.  Perhaps it is merely that the love you have for him is love of the most exquisite kind, the kind we rarely admit to ourselves.  And I've come to terms with the fact that whatever it is you feel for me, it could never hold a candle to the flame that is between you and Erik._

_Part of me still prays I am mistaken.  But I highly doubt I am.  I suppose all that is left for me to do is hope that every once in a while, you will think of me and remember the childhood friendship we shared.  And that one day you'll forgive me._

_With all my love, _

_ Raoul_

_'He knew,'  Christine thought as a single tear made it's way down her face.  __'He knew what I could not admit even to myself.'_

She brushed away the tear that had shed itself in pity.  Raoul had never asked for pity, and she was loathe to give him such a confusing emotion.  Perhaps, this letter, this blessing, was what she had been waiting for.  Yet part of her still felt that he deserved to hear it from her.

She quickly reached into the drawer of her dressing table and produced the stationary she kept inside, and rather hastily wrote two notes.  One to Erik, and one to Raoul.  The one to Erik she left on the dressing table where he was sure to spot it when he returned for her tonight, she knew she could always make her way back through the Rue Scribe entrance if the Opera was locked when she returned.  But she did not want Erik waiting for her without an explanation.  She could only hope that he would understand.

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	3. Chapter Two: There's No Easy Way Out

**Chapter Two:  There's No Easy Way Out**

Throughout the entire rehearsal, Christine kept glancing out into the auditorium for a sign that Raoul had agreed to meet with her, and halfway through, her glimpses were rewarded when the Vicomte took a seat in the front row.  From that moment, Christine relaxed and sang with a renewed air of confidence, sang over the new fluttering of butterflies inside her.  At least now she knew that the battle was half won.

The second rehearsal was over, Raoul bounded onto the stage and caught up with Christine.  "You wanted to see me?"  He asked with an icy formality.

"Yes, if you would just let me fetch my cloak?"

"Of course,"  he allowed, and within moments, they were outside the opera house and on their way to a café on the Place de la Concorde.

The uncomfortable silence remained until the waiter had served them their tea and left them.  "I assume there is a reason you wished to see me, Christine?"

"Yes, there was,"  Christine responded nervously, her hands creating pleats in her skirt.  "Raoul, I . . ."  she trailed off, the words not coming to her.  Finally, from the pocket of her skirt, she pulled out the ring she had hidden there that morning.  She took his hand in hers, and pressed the ring into his palm.  "Raoul, I want you to understand that I never meant to lead you on, and I surely never meant to hurt you.  And I felt you deserved to hear it from me and not from anyone else."

Raoul nodded his reluctant acceptance.  "May I ask a question, though?"

"Of course,"  she replied.

"If I had not written you that letter, would we still be having this conversation?"

Christine's eyes dropped to the cup of tea in front of her as she answered,  "Yes, we would Raoul."

"Do you love him?"  
  


"Yes,"  she whispered.

"Does he love you?"

"Yes,"  she replied again.

"And are you happy?"

Christine looked up, and the truth shone from her eyes.  "Happy to be hurting you?  No, that I'm not happy about.  Happy to be with Erik?  Yes, that thought does make me happy."

"Even though by your own words he may be dying?"

"Yes,"  Christine replied.  "Whatever time is afforded us is by far better than never having this feeling at all."

Raoul nodded once again, and then stood from the table.  "Then I suppose you should be getting back to him soon."  He dropped some bills onto the table and had just passed her before he turned to her once more, even though she did not turn to face him.  "Christine, I love you,"  Raoul said simply, before turning once more toward the door.

_'When you want it the most, there's no easy way out,'  Christine sighed as she watched Raoul walk past the window of the café._

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Erik was pacing the bank of the lake with a slip of paper held in his hand when she made her way down the Rue Scribe entrance.

Christine stopped in the shadows as she saw the black figure pacing up and down the shoreline of the lake, and knew he was agitated with her.  The very way he carried himself, his body language spoke of mortal danger.

Yet she was not afraid.  At least, not for her life, but afraid he would see this as a betrayal.  Afraid that in easing her own conscience, she had hurt him.

He stopped for a moment and leaned against the wall, and she silently slipped from the shadows and gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

That soft touch sent him spinning around to look her in the face, the anger barely controlled behind the mask.

"Please tell me you understand that I had to tell him to his face,"  she pleaded.  "You know that if it had been you in his position, that you would have wanted me to come to you and tell you in person."

The anger softened at her words as he saw the truth behind them, and recalled that he had been about to ask Christine to come back and give her answer, even if it was no.  He ducked his head briefly and looked down at her hands, and watched as they entwined with his own.

"You are right, I would have wanted to hear it from you, and not in a note.  I'm sorry."

Christine relaxed, and whispered,  "You have nothing to be sorry for.  You understand now, and that's all that matters."

"Did you see him?"

"Yes,"  she answered.

He waited, unable to ask the details.

She knew he wasn't going to make this easy for her, and sighed.  "We went to have a cup of tea on the Place de la Concorde, and I told him that I am in love with you.  He seemed resigned to the fact, asked me if I was sure, I told him I was, and then he left."

Erik nodded, and a bright light reached his eyes as he led her to the boat and in silence, rowed them across the lake.  Neither spoke again until they had entered the lair, when finally, Christine asked the question she had been worrying over since reading Raoul's note.

"Erik, you never told me you went to the de Chagny estate."

Erik whirled around, the cape flying in a circle as he turned,  "How did you know about that?"

Christine dropped her head for a moment, then raised it again to look him in the eye.  "Did he hurt you when he shot at you?"

Erik's eyes revealed amazement at her knowledge, and wonderment at the caring when she reached out to him as if she were inspecting him for pains.  "No,"  Erik rasped.

"Then he didn't hit you?"

"One of the balls grazed my shoulder, nothing more than a flesh wound I assure you."

Christine closed her eyes for a moment and drew in a ragged breath, realizing just how close she had been to losing him.

"How did you know?"  Erik asked again.

"Raoul,"  Christine answered simply, before deciding to elaborate.  "He had written me about it, and just before rehearsals started, Madame Giry delivered the note to me."

Erik's own eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he tried to quell the anger that particular meeting held for him before opening again to gaze upon Christine.

"You wouldn't have hurt him then,"  Christine whispered raggedly.

Erik turned from her then, afraid of the confrontation he was expecting.  "Am I that much of a monster that I don't understand a fair fight?  A gentleman is accorded acquittal in a duel, but a monster, a **_thing__, is shot at from behind."_**

Christine shrunk instinctively for a moment at the tone his beautiful voice took.  Then, her own indignant anger rose to the surface.  "Monster is your word, not mine."

He turned to face her then, the anger and violence barely in check.  "Is that why you agreed to marry me, Christine?  Because you believed I would hurt your Vicomte?  If it is, it's not too late for you to change your mind and make a true marriage!"

The tears fell unbidden down Christine's face as his words stabbed at her heart.  She moved closer, knowing that if she did not soothe his anger soon that they might well say more things they regretted.  She stood before him, the resolve shining in her eyes as she reached up to the back of his head and undid the ties of the mask, allowing it to fall at their feet.

"I want to be able to see you when I say this,"  she said by way of explanation.  "I want you to know that I see **_you so that you understand that I mean what I say.  Erik, I agreed to marry you because I love you, not because I feared you might hurt Raoul.  You've had so little experience with love that you can't yet tell the difference between loving someone and being in love with someone.  There is a difference, Erik, a difference as plain as night is different from day,"  Christine paused, hoping that her next words would be understood.  "I love Raoul, but as a friend, as a girl might love a brother.  A very simple kind of love.  My love for you is different,"  she paused once more, trying to formulate the words in her mind, trying to explain something she was not sure she truly understood.  "The love I have for you is more like a fire that burns from the inside.  I _****_love Raoul, but I am _****_in love with you."_**

The anger that had burned in his eyes at the beginning of her speech dimmed, and he drew his hands to caress her face.  "You are right when you say I do not understand.  All I know is that I love you.  It's not something I've ever had before I met you, and certainly if I had, it was a feeling that could never be returned.  I've never had a brother or a sister, so I can not understand that kind of love.  Forgive me my anger, I know it comes much too quickly.  And it is not necessarily you I am angry with, Christine,"  Erik sighed and turned away from her once more before crying out,  "How I wish that I could forget all the anger and ugliness this world has ever shown me!"

Christine came up upon him from behind, and once more laid a soothing hand on his shoulder.  "Let me help you forget, Erik.  Let me show you it need not always be that way!"

Erik turned once more to face her plea, and was amazed as she stepped forward into his arms and kissed his naked face for the first time.  He lost himself then, and before long, their lips were as inexorably entwined as their hearts had always been.

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	4. Chapter Three: When You're Ready To Go

**Chapter Three:  When you're ready to go**

****

"We still need to figure out how we are going to manage to be married,"  Christine ruminated the next morning as she sat on the divan in the drawing room.  Erik stood by the

"While I admit that I haven't paid much attention to the laws that the leaders of this country have put into place, I am sure I have some contacts who have,"  Erik replied.  He leaned over and kissed the top of her forehead.  "Don't fear, we will find a way."

"I know there has to be a way, Erik.  I'm afraid I'm as ignorant as you are in this endeavor.  I've never been married, never known anyone about to be married,"  Christine continued.  _'And the one person I have to ask, I can't ask anymore.'_

Almost as if reading her thought, Erik said,  "And I highly doubt that if you were to ask your Vicomte for help that he would help us."

Christine sighed outwardly, not understanding the uncanny knack he had for figuring out the direction of her thoughts.  "No, I couldn't ask him."

Erik nodded his head, almost as if he understood.  

"Who would you ask?"  Christine inquired, her thoughts returning to the little man in the passage, the man who had told her about the wedding dress.

And she wondered, if not for that ill-fated trip to the Bois, would he have given in to his obvious desire to see her in that dress?  That was the night she had known, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that Erik did indeed desire her.

Erik reflected silently for a moment.  He had no doubt that she'd run into Jules, he'd realized that the moment he'd discovered the packet of morphine on the script of _Don Juan Triumphant.  "I know at times you think me a total recluse, but I do have a few people I trust."_

Christine frowned slightly, realizing he wasn't going to give up any more information than he already had.  _'One day,'  she vowed,  __'one day he will tell me.'_

****

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Erik waited impatiently on the far bank of the underground lake for Nadir to appear.  And very impatiently consulted his pocket watch – the Daroga was very late.

An eternity passed in the span of five minutes and Nadir emerged from the passage.

"You're late, Daroga,"  Erik chastised.

"I was unavoidably detained,"  Nadir replied.  "I've never seen you quite this tense, Erik.  Would you care to explain why you are so snappish this afternoon?"

"I'm not snappish,"  Erik denied.

Nadir shook his head sadly.  "You've also been pacing.  I can see your footprints in the dust."

Erik rounded on him, stood mere feet before the Persian before checking his temper.  Sighing, he turned away from the man he still believed to be his conscience.  "If I am impatient, it is merely because I require your advice, Nadir."

Nadir's eyebrows raised at Erik's admission.  "Advice?"

"Yes, advice.  I know little of these matters, you see, and Christine,"  Erik spread his hands in supplication.

"Christine?  Christine Daae?  You have her again, then?"

"You make too much of the matter, Nadir.  She is with me completely of her own accord, I assure you.  I merely needed to ask a question of you that neither of us quite knew the positive answer to."

Nadir sighed, and asked,  "Your question, Erik?"

Erik's eyes lit although the rest of his face remained devoid of emotion.  "How does one go about getting married without a birth certificate, without knowing one's own last name?"

"Marriage?  Erik, you jest, do you not?"

Erik circled Nadir as a vulture circles a bird of prey, the dangerous overtones evident in his body language as he raged,  "Would I jest about so important a matter?  Does it surprise you that I could contemplate marriage?  Do you honestly think that I am less of a man merely because I have the face of a monster?  Is it truly that unbelievable that a woman could come to love me, despite my curse?"

"I never doubted that you had the desires of any normal man, Erik.  You forget I was there when the Shah presented you with the gift of a bride all those years ago.  Or did you lose that particular memory in an opium induced cloud?"

"No,"  Erik rasped,  "I haven't forgotten.

"It just took me by surprise.  The last I heard, Christine was engaged to the Vicomte de Chagny.  It is a natural assumption, Erik, nothing more."

Erik stopped his circling, and stood to face his friend.  "Do you plan to go in circles all day, or will you answer my question."

"If you answer a few of mine in return."

Erik sighed, deflated.  "As you wish."

"Mind you, I'm not sure of the exact laws in France Erik, I don't know how things work in your church.  Now, don't get angry, I am well aware that you don't practice the religion you were born to.  I know full well you would never go into the church uncertain of your acceptance."

Erik waved his hand in dismissal of the thought.

Nadir continued,  "I do believe that there are others who can perform these rituals in Europe, are there not?"

"Possibly,"  Erik answered thoughtfully.  "But the matter of my particular dilemma."

"You do not know your last name, Erik?"

"No,"  Erik replied, the sadness in his voice apparent.  "As a child, the few people who came to our home would address my mother either by her given name, or merely as Madam.  As a child, I thought little of it.  And the few people who came and saw me,"  he spread his hands again, this time in defeat,  "Merely addressed me as Erik.  Or child.  Possibly someone addressed me as monster."

Nadir shook his head in sadness.  "Perhaps if we knew where you were born.  Do you know any of that, Erik?"

"Boscherville,"  he answered,  "St. Martin de Boscherville."

"Perhaps record of your birth would be contained in the parish archives?"

"Perhaps,"  Erik admitted.  "I had not thought of that, although, you see, I heard Mass at the house, never at the church.  I do not know if I would even be on record as a parishioner.  My mother would, most likely.  I?  I am not so certain."

"Your mother evidently cared enough for your soul to see it had proper guidance when you were young.  Perhaps the priest that performed Mass for you is still there."

"Nadir, it has been over forty years since I lived in Boscherville.  Father Mansart was an old man even then, much older than I am now.  Although perhaps . . ."  Erik's thought trailed off.  "Perhaps there may yet be someone there who would know."  A strange smile twisted his distorted face.  "Thank you, Nadir, you have been most helpful."  Erik sought at that moment to disappear, but was halted by the sound of Nadir's voice.

"You have not yet answered my questions, Erik.  Deplorable manners, forgetting a promise already."

Erik whirled around at that, his face grim yet accepting.  "Ever the Daroga, Nadir?"

Nadir gave his own gesture of supplication.  "As always."

"Your questions then, Daroga."

"You are not blackmailing the girl, or the boy?"

Erik growled, and his fists clenched.  "You require proof?"

"It would help, Erik.  I have no doubt the girl is unharmed, I know you too well to think that.  I merely wish to soothe my own conscience.  You understand, of course?"

The growl deepened.  "Of course I understand, Daroga.  You still think that this face of mine means I am a monster in spirit as well as physically."

"Nothing of the sort, Erik.  I know you have a soul, you have remorse for your past actions.  I've seen enough of that to know that your monstrous deeds were not all of your own making.  I know what your life has been, Erik.  Allah forgives the man who kills in self defense.  If Allah can forgive, then so can I."

Erik's defense began to crumble.  It was not the first time that Nadir had let on that he knew more than Erik would ever admit to.

"You wish to see her?"

Nadir nodded.

Erik sighed.  It went against every instinct of his to bring Nadir to the lair, yet if that was the way it had to be . . . "Get in the boat, Nadir."

The surprise was instantaneous on Nadir's face as he did what any sensible person did when Erik gave them a direct command.  He obeyed without question.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

Christine rose from the divan as the two men entered the house, and the surprise was written on her face as for the first time, she saw another living soul in Erik's domain.

Nadir quickly wiped his own shock off of his face as Erik gracefully motioned to Christine to join them.  The joy on her face was evident, the way she looked at Erik shone with a love so pure, a love he had not seen since the day Rookheeya had died all those year ago.

It was he who broke the silence in the room, as he lapsed into Persian,  "I apologize for my disbelief, Erik.  One merely needs to look at her face to know that she is in love with you."

Erik's face betrayed a host of emotions, a quick frown of displeasure at his friend's manners, and then the look of absolute devotion as his eyes returned to his beloved.  He answered quickly in Persian,  "It is forgiven,"  before continuing in French.  "Christine, please excuse our deplorable manners for conversing in a language you do not understand.  I would like you to meet an old friend of mine, Nadir Kahn."  Turning slightly to include Nadir in the tableau, he gestured,  "Nadir, may I introduce Christine Daae."

"A pleasure, Mademoiselle,"  Nadir bowed formally.

Christine smiled serenely, making a similar, more feminine gesture.  "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Monsieur Kahn."

"Nadir,"  he corrected instinctively.

"If I am to call you Nadir,"  Christine replied,  "Then you must call me Christine."

"Of course,"  Nadir returned, and then turned to face Erik.  Erik merely nodded his approval as he moved to take Christine's hand in his own.

"I have asked Nadir his advice on our problem,"  Erik continued without preamble.  "He did come up with a suggestion that may help us."

Christine raised her eyebrows in question as she glanced between the two men.  "And that is?"

"That perhaps there may be some record in the town where I was born,"  Erik answered.  "It would mean a short journey, two weeks at most."

Christine sensed Erik's unasked question.  "Then we must go,"  she answered.

The corners of Erik's mouth lifted and his eyes lighted.  "As you wish,"  he said simply.

Christine returned his smile freely as Nadir stood back and watched them in wonderment.  His friend had finally found love, and was loved in return

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**


	5. Chapter Four: And Your Heart's Left In ...

**Chapter Four:  And Your Heart's Left In Doubt**

****

That evening was spent mostly in a rather pleasant silence as the two occupants of the house beyond the lake packed for their journey.

"I would advise you to pack light, my dear,"  Erik suggested.  "One can hardly go toting large trunks into the Rue Scribe."

"Or in the boat for that matter,"  Christine replied matter-of-factly.

Erik smiled at her observation,  "Or in the boat."

"Erik?"

"Yes?"

"Where exactly are we going?"

"St. Martin de Boscherville.  In Normandy."

Christine nodded, almost as if she knew where Boscherville was.  And then she asked,  "And how will we get there?"

Erik closed his eyes momentarily, his thoughts inadvertently returning to his last journey to his childhood home, his lips dropping in a frown of deepest anguish.  "Nadir is making the arrangements, as I requested.  You understand of course, it may not be the most comfortable journey.  Christine, if . . ."  Erik's voice trailed helplessly.  "Are you sure you wish to accompany me?  I was not . . . well liked, even as a child.  I do fear it may not go well, my returning and asking questions such as I need to ask."

Christine moved silently to him, and grasped his hands in her own in a gesture of support.  "Where you will go, I will go as well.  If necessary, I will ask the questions, if you will allow me to help you.  It's high time you resolved your past, at least that part of it, and put the ghost to rest."

Erik met her gaze through the mask as her one hand rose to caress his cheek in a show of affection.  "I greatly misjudged your resolve,"  he said as his hand came up and brought hers to his lips.  "An unforgivable error on my part, as you never cease to amaze me."

Christine's face brightened.  "It's easy to be strong for those you love."

"As you are teaching me."

Christine's tone turned teasing,  "You mean there is actually something I can teach you?"

"You are teaching me more about love than I ever imagined possible, _mon__ amour."_

Her eyes danced at his gentle answer, and both their hearts soared as their lips met in a gentle melding, and it was with regret that they parted and continued to prepare for their journey.  

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Nadir had tried to find a driver to take the couple there, but in the end all he could come up with was a rickety cart that they could rent.

"It's in deplorable condition, Erik, and without horses to draw it.  I fear I have not been able to find a suitable horse to draw the carriage."

Erik had been furious; it was the same conundrum that had driven him down to the vaults of the opera house in the first place.  "It is not you I am angry at, friend, it is _men in general that anger me.  I shall just have to contrive another means of transportation."  And with that he darted from the banks of the lake and made his way through the streets of Paris to a house he had not visited in years._

"Monsieur!"  Jules Bernard's startled cry came as he saw the man in the black cloak and white mask on his steps.

Erik nodded curtly to the little man, and gestured him outside.  "I doubt your wife wishes me to come inside, and I fear I could not wait until our regular meeting this time.  I require your assistance."

"Of course, Monsieur,"  the Belgian supplicated.  "What is it you need?"

"A means of reliable transportation, Jules,"  Erik replied, a heavy purse appearing in his hand as if from thin air.  "For two, I have a traveling companion, and I have long since given up my horses."

Jules' face registered shock, it had been the first time his mysterious employer had traveled in years.  "Of course, it may take me a day or two, but I shall find such a means,"  Jules answered without qualm.

"The faster the better,"  Erik continued,  "and then I will see to it you have more for your trouble."

The little man's eyes widened to an utterly enormous size.  "Yes, Monsieur, as you wish."

And with that, Erik vanished from the step, leaving his puppet behind.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

True to his word, the next morning Jules awaited Erik on the banks of the underground lake.

Erik had hastily run out of the house at the first sound of the buzzer, and rowed quickly across to find the Belgian standing there awaiting him.  "You have found what I require?"

"Yes, Monsieur, I regret I was unable to find a carriage, but I did find two fine horses, if that will suffice."

Erik sighed, he had hoped for a carriage, but instead of replying in displeasure, he said,  "That will have to do then, I suppose."  Another purse similar to the one he had produced the morning before appeared in his hand, and he handed it to Jules.  "And where are these horses waiting?"

"I can bring them to you by evening, Monsieur,"  Jules replied.

Erik nodded his acceptance.  "I shall be waiting at the edge of the passage with my companion."

"As you wish, sir,"  Jules responded, and took his leave as Erik once more faded into the shadows.

****

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

"Erik?"  Christine called as Erik entered the lair once more.

He moved to her with his uncanny catlike grace, and knelt before where she sat at her writing desk.  "I have secured our means of travel,"  he answered.

"How?"  Christine wondered aloud.

"Horseback.  It's not the grand elegance you would have traveled with your Vicomte, but it's better than the alternatives."

Christine nodded, and smiled,  "As long as we make it there, Erik, it doesn't matter how we get there."

Erik sighed in relief as he took Christine's hands in his own.  "We'll be leaving this evening.  I regret we may have to do a good deal of our traveling by night.  And I do not know if we will even be able to find lodging along the way.  You and I both know what people will say, not only because of the mask, because of my face, but the . . . impropriety of an unmarried woman traveling alone with a man who is not a blood relation."

"Erik, we have done nothing wrong,"  Christine replied.  "We both know that.  I'm not worried about what they will think.  For as soon as this journey is over, as soon as we know what we need to know, we will be married and it will be a moot point."

Erik kissed her hands as she finished her speech.  "I am glad that you are coming, you do know that, don't you?"

"And I am as glad to be coming,"  Christine finished in kind, lowering her head so that she could kiss him lightly on the forehead, at the edge of where the mask ended and his hairline began.  _'One day,'  she thought,  __'one day he will be able to live without hiding behind that mask.  One day perhaps, he will have the courage to believe I don't need him to wear it anymore.'_

****

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

The journey to Boscherville was tedious at best.  They rode out of Paris shortly after dusk, and continued until the moon descended behind the trees.

Erik had always before ridden bareback, but with Christine coming along on this journey, he opted for a saddle and bridle on both horses.  And when it was finally too dark for them to see, they pulled the horses off the road and into the woods.

Christine, for all her fear of the dark, felt safe with Erik by her side.  She stayed close to him as he searched for firewood and built them a fire, and then helped as he made a pallet for them.

"I realize it's generally inappropriate to sleep together before the wedding night . . ."  Erik trailed off.

"Erik, it's cold,"  Christine reasoned,  "and we couldn't very well bring enough blankets for two, and I don't seem to remember either of us minding that first night when we fell asleep on the divan."

"Point taken,"  Erik replied dryly as they laid down on the pallet and curled up in a rather chaste embrace.

The morning dawned too quickly, and they were on the road again, Erik taking care to stay away from the more traveled roads.  On that second day, they stopped at an inn to find food, and to allow them both to freshen up a bit, before heading on their way once more.  Three days passed in a companionable camaraderie, and before either of them knew it, they reached the outskirts of the sleepy village of St. Martin de Boscherville.

"It has not changed in the past twenty years,"  Erik remarked as he drew the hood of his cape about his head, careful that it hid the mask.

The rain that had been scattered off and on that day was both blessing and curse for them, as it had at one point soaked them to the skin, yet allowed Erik to draw his hood in a fashion that he was not so noticeable.

The rain had started again as they reached the village, and Erik silently prayed they would be well received.  He had no idea if the one he sought was still alive, although he could not see her ever moving from her quiet hometown.

"Come,"  he commanded, and they headed for a house near the edge of the village, a house Erik remembered well, even if he had never been inside it's walls.  
  


Christine looked at his curiously as they drew up outside the house, and asked quietly,  "It this the house where you lived?"

"Hardly,"  Erik snorted softly as he dismounted his horse and took Christine's reins from her hands.  "That house is not a place I would go to easily; I fear I'd be too tempted to raze it to the ground.  No, this is the house where a kind if misguided woman used to live."

Christine's puzzled look did not leave her, and she listened intently as Erik continued.

"I don't know if she will be there or not, she may well have died years ago, but she is the likely my best hope at finding what we need.  Can you go to the door for me?"

"If that is your wish, but what shall I say?"

"Ask for a Mademoiselle Marie Perrault, if you must, claim to be the grandchild of an old family friend.  In any case, should she open the door, I would likely know her right away, and you will not have to say a word."

Christine nodded once more, if his request seemed odd, she didn't show it.  She gracefully accepted his help down from her mount, and walked with conviction down the short stone path to the door.  It was with trepidation and anticipation that she knocked, and as the door opened, internally sighed as she saw a short dumpy man.

"Good evening Monsieur,"  she started without preamble,  "I am sorry to bother you on a day such as today, but may I inquire if there is a Mademoiselle Marie Perrault who lives here?"

"Marie?"  the dumpy man questioned.  "Marie has not lived in this house for quite some time.  She left here several years ago.  Why do you ask?"

Christine's heart dropped to her feet as she gave the explanation Erik had supplied her with, ever conscious that he was waiting just out of sight behind the horses.  "You wouldn't happen to know where I can find her, would you?"

"I'm afraid I don't, Mademoiselle.  I haven't heard from my sister since she left this house.  We didn't get on very well.  You say your grandmother was a friend of hers?"

"Yes, a friend from school, she often talked about Mademoiselle Perrault."

"Strange,"  the man sighed.  "I didn't realize Marie had many friends.  And the one . . . I know she only had one child, who would be a great deal older than you, and is likely long dead."

Christine gasped as the realization hit her.  This man must have known Erik's family.  "Monsieur?  Perhaps that friend would know how to contact your sister?"

"No, I'm afraid not, she's been dead for over twenty years now,"  the man sighed again.  "It's not well to speak of that woman, though, she paid greatly for her own sins in the end.  If you do happen to find Marie, could you kindly ask her to contact me, at least let me know she's still alive?"

"Certainly, Monsieur Perrault,"  Christine answered automatically as the man retreated behind the door.

****

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**


	6. Chapter Five: Don't Give Up On Your Fai...

**Author's Note:  I just wanted to take a moment to thank all of you who have been reading my little tale here, and especially all of you who have so far been so kind in your reviews!**

**angelofnight:  yes, you were right, but no, can't be mean to Mlle. Perrault, and you'll see why in a few chapters, she may be easy to pick on, but even Erik stopped putting shawls on her shawl after she showed him kindness, after all, it is she who (as Kay put it) instilled on drop of purity in his soul!**

**Deirdre of the Sorrows****:  Yes, I like the Daroga myself, he is such an interesting counter to Erik, and rest assured he will make another appearance somewhere in the story!**

****

**Rachel Gardner:  Thank you so much for your kind words and for being my first reviewer!  I hope you're still out there somewhere enjoying the story!**

**Kates:  I very much plan on continuing!  This story has me just as hooked as you guys are, and it's not letting me go just yet!  Thanks for your kind review, made my day!**

**Emmy:  We shall see about the happy ending . . . as I have not finished writing it as yet, so I'm not totally sure how it's gonna end.**

**AriesSolar:  LOL, just gotta love E/C romances**

**Marianne, Ash, Elenmir, Alexis:  More coming ASAP, hope you enjoy the rest as much as you've enjoyed the early parts!**

**Jo:  We shall see, we shall see ;-)**

And now . . . on with the story!  For disclaimers, please see the prologue!

****

**Chapter Five:  Don't Give Up On Your Faith**

"I am sorry, Erik, truly I am,"  Christine sighed as they settled down in a tiny, cramped room in the inn which lay on the far outskirts of Boscherville.

They had walked rather dejectedly to the inn after Christine's meeting with Monsieur Perrault, and Christine had made the arrangements for them to secure the room, lying by saying she was traveling with her husband.  Erik had stayed out of sight as Christine rented the room with money Erik had handed to her just outside the establishment.

"I am not upset with you, Christine, merely . . . saddened that we've reached a dead end."

"There's always tomorrow, Erik.  Perhaps the church will have some record . . ."  Christine trailed off as a thought occurred to her.  "Erik, would your . . . would your mother be buried in the church cemetery?"

Erik turned to face her at the thought, a slight vein of anger running through him before he realized her motivation for asking such a question.  "You mean we should look for the headstone and that may give us the name we seek?"

"Exactly.  Of course, Madeleine is not all that uncommon of a name, but surely there would only be one Madeleine who would have died on that day,"  Christine continued before cutting herself off again.  What if Erik didn't know what day it was that she had died?  After all, he didn't seem to know exactly how old he was, she'd gleaned that much out of him.  At least, he didn't know his exact birthday, only said that there had only been one time where there was any kind of celebration.  What if he didn't know when in 1861 she died?  "Erik?"

"Yes?"  Erik returned with trepidation.

"Do you know when . . . when she died?"

Erik's head dropped and hung low as he answered in a voice which was barely more than a raspy whisper,  "Yes, I do."

Christine rose from her seat on the bed and stood by him, her hands reaching out as if to comfort, and she gasped as he pulled her into a fierce embrace.

"You still fear asking me questions,"  he rasped.  "Will you always fear me, fear my anger?"

"I do not fear you, Erik,"  Christine answered, her own arms wrapping around his waist as she held him close.  "Not anymore, not when I can see the love in your eyes."  She pulled back just enough to be able to see his masked face, and the gleaming of his eyes.  Eyes she knew that were filling with tears.  Her hands moved from his waist up to the mask, and she gently pulled it away and wiped away the tears from his naked face.

Erik watched with wonderment as she did this, and saw that her face did not show even a hint of revulsion at his deformity now.  He was even more amazed as she stood on tiptoe, and her lips brushed his.  And more so as the kiss deepened.

It took moments after they resurfaced before he found the words to express himself.  "The last time, I was so sure it was an aberration,"  Erik whispered, still holding Christine close.  "So sure, and yet for the second time you've kissed me without the mask."

"You really didn't believe me when I told you that I no longer feared your face?"  Christine questioned.

"I dared not believe, Christine.  I was happy enough knowing you loved me, I didn't want to . . . push my luck, as they say."

"Oh Erik,"  Christine sighed sadly.  "There is so much more to you than your face."

Erik stared down at her in puzzlement.

Christine did not speak again to explain, instead she opted to meet his lips with hers again.

****

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

The rain continued steadily through the night, making them both glad they had managed to secure a room at the inn.  Yet the morning dawned bright and cold, and they made their way to the cemetery shortly after daybreak.

"I know her name was Madeleine, Erik, but perhaps if you told me the date I wouldn't have to call you over at every tombstone with that name."

Erik sighed, and then agreed to her request.  "June 10, 1861."

Christine grinned as she committed the date to memory, and turned back to the tombstones.

They continued in silence, until Christine's gasp rang out in the cold air.  Erik immediately came running over, the concern showing in his eyes as he looked to see if she was okay.  Christine merely pointed to the double headstone.

_Charles_

_Loving husband_

_July 17, 1799 - May 3, 1831_

_Madeleine_

_Loving wife_

_April 5, 1814 - __June 10, 1861___

"There's no last name,"  Erik said, rather dejectedly.  His eyes remained trained on the first name on the stone.  "Charles,"  he whispered.

"Your father, no doubt,"  Christine replied.

"I never knew him,"  Erik commented.

"Then you must have been very young when he died,"  Christine added.  "Perhaps not even born yet."

"Somehow I doubt that I was, for if he had been, he would likely have run screaming at the sight of me,"  Erik spat bitterly.

Christine turned to face him now, and took his hands in a gesture that Erik had come to recognize as her way of trying to soothe his anger.  "We have a little more to go on now, at least.  The church, I'm sure, has records on them.  At least now we have a birth date for them, and we know now your birthday could not be any further past February of 1832."

"Yes, there is that, at least,"  Erik responded, the disappointment still evident in his voice.

"Surely the priest is in by now,"  Christine continued, gently leading Erik toward the church.  They had made it to the door when Erik stopped as the memories of the inside assaulted him.  His breathing became shallow, and he let his hold on Christine's hand go loose.

"Erik?"  Christine questioned concernedly.  "Erik, what is it?"

Erik backed away from the building as if the devil himself were inside.  "Christine, I . . ."  he turned as his voice trailed away.  Christine ran from the door and around so that she could face him, her worry written in every gesture.

"Is it another attack?"  Her voice came high-pitched, the anxiety clear as a bell.

Erik's breathing evened out, and he looked down at his fiancée, took the hand she offered out.  When he had breath enough to answer, his voice came out in a ragged whisper,  "No, thankfully no, it's just that, Christine, I don't know if I can go in there."

Christine's face softened, although the question remained written on it.  "You told me once you'd only heard mass at your home.  What is so frightening to you about this building?"

Erik allowed a pause as he collected his thoughts,  "Yes, I only ever heard mass at the house, but I have been in this building.  As a child, I used to sneak out my window at night in a strange desire to see the world that lay without.  Father Mansart told me about the organ in the church, and all I wanted was to see it, and once inside late at night, I couldn't help but play it.  I foolishly thought that anyone close enough to hear would believe it to be a ghost.  When some of the parishioners told the Father that they had heard the organ playing, he came to my house and spoke with my mother about it.  I had not only been heard, but I had been seen on the church grounds.  That was what prompted them to board up my window, so I could no longer roam at night."

"Boarded up?"  Christine questioned in outrage.  "Without light to shine in?"

Erik nodded, and Christine's face fell, her anger at the injustice of it apparent.  She stepped closer and took him in her arms, and Erik laid his head on her shoulder as his breathing returned totally to normal.

A silence fell in which they merely held each other, before Christine finally broke the spell,  "Erik, would you prefer if I went in alone and asked?"

Erik raised his head from her shoulder and met her eyes,  "As much as I may prefer it, you were right when you told me that this journey would enable me to put some of my childhood ghosts to rest.  We'll do this together."

Christine smiled up at him knowingly.  As afraid as he was, he was also curious about his past.  Both of them knew that if they did not find anything here, they would be more or less out of options.  "We can take a moment if you wish."

Erik nodded, knowing he would need a moment to rein in the demons in his soul.  He could almost see the people of the past walking up the steps of the marvelous cathedral.  And as if all the ghosts of his past wished to torment him, he saw in his mind's eye, his mother walking up those steps with Mademoiselle Perrault, followed shortly by Doctor Barye.

~~~~~

_"You ruined my life the day you were born – ruined __it!  I hate you, I hate the very sight and sound of you . . . your devils face and your angel's voice!  There are plenty of angels in hell, did you know that?  I wish to God that you were there with them, where you belong.  I wish you were dead, do you hear me?  I wish you were dead!"_

_"Rightly or wrongly, the village fears him, and wherever you try to take him it will be the same – hatred, persecution, violence."_

_"The midwife had no right to let him live.  If I had attended the birth he would never have drawn a single breath."_

~~~~~

Erik stiffened as the scenes flashed through his mind,  _'Why is it I can still hear her, and later him, even now, even after all these years?'_

Christine sensed, rather than felt, the change in him.  "Erik?"

He looked down once more on her face, so much like another, yet so much softer, glowing with love.  The look he had always yearned for, the touch he was always denied, were now his for the rest of his time on this earth, given freely by his angel.

"I'm sorry, I was just thinking.  Shall we?"

Christine nodded her assent, and for the first time in nearly forty years, Erik entered a church.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

They wandered through the nave for a few moments, and every now and then Erik's hand reached out to caress a statue longingly, as if the cold stone would bring back the shattered remains of his childhood and make them whole.

"She used to meet him here,"  Erik whispered unconsciously.

Christine's hand automatically sought out his, and squeezed it.

"I told her I didn't want her to see him again, but that didn't matter to her.  And then I thought if I left, she would be free to be with him, yet still she stayed here, alone in that house, until the day she died."

Christine's face twisted in confusion.  "Your father?"

"No,"  Erik answered simply, choosing not to go any further with his thoughts.

Christine opened her mouth as if to ask further, but closed it again as she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye.  She motioned to Erik, and they both turned to see the priest coming down the aisle between the pews.

Erik released Christine's hand and walked toward the priest.  From her vantage point, Christine could see the priest's surprise at the mask, yet the man quickly reined in his shock and listened intently as Erik asked him about the parish records.  The priest simply nodded his head, and motioned for the two to follow him.

The priest led them to a door at the opposite side of the church near the back, and opened it to show them a library of volumes.  He stepped toward the right, and indicated the shelves at the corner.

"Everything we have from 1800 to the present is in here.  Perhaps you'll find what you seek there.  I fear I cannot help you look, as I have to go out and see a sick gentleman.  Feel free to look through the tomes, Monsieur."

"Thank you Father,"  Erik replied graciously as the young priest left them.

"Well, that was relatively easy,"  Christine remarked.

"Yes,"  Erik nodded as he scanned the bindings of the books, and then pulled six off the shelf.  "1830 to 1832, it seems a logical place to start, does it not?"

"Yes, we know you couldn't have been born much later,"  Christine commented.  They walked with the books over to the small table in the middle of the room, sat down, and both took a book and immersed themselves in the past.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**


	7. Chapter Six: You're Going To Find A Way

****

****

**Chapter Six:  You're Going To Find A Way**

Many hours later they found themselves in the room at the inn again after hitting an unforgivable dead end.

Christine was giving Erik a wide berth to pace in, not an easy thing to do in the cramped little room.

"Why would I have thought it any different?"  Erik raged, his movements while they may have been angry, showcased his amazing cat-like grace.  "What priest in his right mind would record my birth?  The birth of a monster, I'm sure that would go over well when the bishop came to check on the parish records!"

"I refuse to believe it is a total dead end, Erik.  There must be something we're missing."

"No, we went over those books thoroughly, there's nothing there for us.  And I doubt that priest wants to see me again,"  his outrage lead to despair, and he crumpled to the floor.  Christine was up like a shot, and came down to sit before him, taking his hand as he whispered,  "It's hopeless, Christine.  Hopeless for me to believe they would even allow us to marry in the church at all.  Why would they allow a monster that they did not even want in the first place?"

"No,"  Christine murmured,  "I won't allow myself to believe that, Erik.  There has to be a way.  Even if the way does not lie with the church, there has to be some way."

Erik lifted his head until his eyes met hers, and saw the glimmer of hope and confidence in them.  "How is it you can be so strong now, and I so weak?"

"Because I am determined to show you that the world is not against you,"  Christine answered.  "Or at least not all of it.  Even I can not help the bigotry and ignorance of people who fear what they do not know or understand, goodness knows I used to be that way, before you taught me that all is not as it seems to be.  Before you showed me that the face does not the man make."

Erik lifted his hand and stroked her cheek as she had so often done for him.  "You are a better person than I, Christine.  I hate to think what may have happened if you had not been here with me throughout this."

Christine smiled, and glanced quickly out the window.  "It's getting late, Erik.  We should get some rest before continuing tomorrow."

Erik returned her smile,  "You're picking up my habits, my dear.  Telling me now time for bed?"

"Well,"  Christine replied,  "We are to spend the rest of our lives together, I'm sure it's not the only habit I'll pick up over the years."

"So long as you don't pick up my worst, my temper,"  Erik kidded gently, before his face turned serious.  "It's no wonder I love you."  He rose, and offered her his hand.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

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The next morning, Christine returned to the church alone.  Erik had wanted to go with her, but knew that by the reaction of the priest the day before it was doubtful that he would be allowed into the record room a second time.  Christine argued that she had a better chance of finding out than he did, after all, she would stay much calmer while asking her questions.

Besides, she didn't want to give him the glimmer of hope at the idea that had come to her, just in case it turned out to be another dead end.

The priest was kind when he saw the young woman, no sign of the obvious distress he'd had at his first sight of the mask the day before.

"I don't know how much help these tomes will be, I'm afraid as you may have noted yesterday that most of our records were by first name only.  A horrible oversight by our earlier priests, to be sure, one that we have been trying to overcome in the past few years since I've been here."

"Yes, I understand.  I do have a question you may be able to answer, Father."

"If I can, Mademoiselle."

"You said you've been here a few years, perhaps you may have known a woman who used to live in the village by the name of Marie Perrault?"

"Marie Perrault,"  the young priest mused.  "Yes, I believe I do remember her.  I was not here long when she left the village."

"Would you perhaps know where she went when she left?"

The priest ruminated on the question for a moment, before looking into Christine's eyes with a sad smile,  "Yes, I do.  She went to Rouen.  She had met a fine man, and they married, and the next day left for the city where he lived.  Her brother was not too happy about it, but even the old are entitled to love, after all."

Christine smiled at the break in her luck.  "You wouldn't happen to have an address for her, would you?"

"Yes, I believe it is in here somewhere,"  the priest answered as he took a book from one of the lower rows of the bookcase.  He opened the book and flipped through several pages before finding what he sought.  "Aha!  Here it is, if you wish, I can write this down for you."

"That would be most helpful, Father,"  Christine replied, her joy at her find obvious.

The priest came back moments later with a sheet of paper and a pen, and after a quick scribble, handed it to her.  "I do hope this helps you, Mademoiselle.

Christine glanced down at the parchment with Mademoiselle Perrault's new name on it.  "I do believe it will, Father.  Perhaps with this, I need not go through those tomes after all.  Thank you."

"The pleasure was mine, I assure you." 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Christine ran back to the inn as quickly as her feet could carry her, and by the time she entered the room, she was breathless.

Erik quickly shot up from the chair, his concern at the sight of her disheveled self evident.  "Christine, what is it, what is wrong?"  In two steps, he was at her side, guiding her into the chair he had vacated.

Christine was still gasping for breath, unable to vocalize her thoughts, so she merely handed him the sheet of parchment she grasped in her small hand.  Erik, not totally understanding at first, raised his eyebrows as she motioned for him to read it.

His eyes darted down toward the parchment.

_Marie Degardeau_

_Degardeau cottage, _

_Rue De Lacat_

_Rouen__._

"I don't understand,"  Erik queried.

Christine, now having enough breath to string together a sentence, replied,  "Mademoiselle Perrault.  That's her, she married and moved to Rouen with her husband."

Erik's eyes widened behind the mask.  "But how . . . how did you find this out?"

"I asked the priest.  He had told me the old records were horribly incomplete and inaccurate, and what we were looking for was like searching for a needle in a haystack, so I though perhaps he might know how to reach Mademoiselle Perrault."

Erik's mouth turned up in a smile of pride at her thoughtfulness,  "You never cease to amaze me."

"I told you there had to be a way.  It means we have to travel to Rouen, but honestly, I think it's worth it."

"Yes, it is,"  Erik replied simply as he took her into his arms and gently kissed her lips.  "We shall leave tomorrow, then, if you're up to the journey."

Christine chuckled,  "I'm up to anything as long as you are." 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

At dawn the next morning, they collected their horses and set out for Rouen.  The night had grown colder than the previous day, and it had started to snow by mid morning.

"Have you ever been to Rouen, Erik?"

"No, I'm afraid I haven't.  My mother lived there as a child, though, and talked about it often.  Enough that I'd likely recognize much of it from my imaginations."

Christine nodded her head, glad that he was at least allowing her small glimpses into his childhood.  Perhaps when she met Mademoiselle Perrault, she could fill in the blanks.

It was mid-day when they came upon the city of Rouen, and Erik found that he had been right, the structures within were almost exactly like those he had imagined as a child.  His quick gasp of breath was enough to let Christine know that as well.

"Do you know where the Rue De Lacat is, Erik?"  Christine queried.

Erik stared ahead for a moment before answering,  "As a child, I studied maps of Paris and Rouen, so I believe I do."

Christine nodded her acquiescence, knowing Erik would be loathe to ask directions for fear of the reaction he would receive.  She followed him through the quaint streets of the small city.  It was not long before they turned down a street and found what they sought, the sign outside the house clearly claimed it as being Degardeau Cottage.

"I am amazed you found it so easily,"  Christine commented as she watched Erik dismount once more.

His movements held a sense of déjà vu, and he helped her down as he had merely a few days ago when they stood before Mademoiselle's childhood home.

"Now, of course that we know she is not Mademoiselle Perrault anymore, I suppose we will have to change the wording.  It is, however, a workday, perhaps her husband will be away,"  Erik sighed.  "I doubt he would be thrilled to find me on his doorstep."

Christine let out a sigh of her own,  "I'm sure that Madame Degardeau will be pleased to see you after all these years, Erik."

Erik's response came out as more of a snort.  "More than likely frightened out of her wits, my dear, she always was wary of me, even when I was a child."

Christine shook her head as she gave his hand a squeeze of support, before releasing him and making her way through the snow to the door.  She stood there for about a minute after knocking, and was greeted by a plump lady of older years, with a curious mouse-like face that had not changed much in the past fifty years.  Her quick intake of breath at sight of Christine was quickly overtaken by her whisper,  "Madeleine!"

Christine didn't have much chance to say anything before Erik was by her side.  Marie's reaction was immediate at the glimpse of the mask, and it mirrored the one she had given twenty years before at his sudden presence.  Her hand flew to her breast in a reflex borne of years gone by, and her voice came quick as a start in the quiet street.

"Holy Virgin!"  she gasped_.  "Erik!"_

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

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**_*Author's Note:  More thank you's!!  You guys are sooo great; all of you who have been reviewing have been so kind, thank you soo much._**

LadyLaura020, Kat, more coming soon, I promise, I'm almost finished writing Chapter Seven, and it's a looong one!

Trinity:  Never thought of writing a scene where they discuss the age difference . . . I suppose part of the reason I haven't is because I know it wasn't uncommon for an older man to marry a much younger woman back in those days.  I'll think on that, although I can't promise it will fit itself into this story.

angelofnight:  Okay, I THINK you're the blank reviewer, and as you can see, yeah, the church didn't have the birth certificate, so you're right again.  Most records back then would be in the church, and I'm looking into the possibility of them getting married without it . . . I really HOPE it's possible!  And we really SHOULD put that jar of spiders away ;-)


	8. Chapter Seven: Tears Of Love

**Chapter Seven:  Tears Of Love**

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Erik gave a stiff little bow as he had all those years ago,  "Good afternoon Mademoiselle Perrault . . . excuse me, Madame Degardeau, I hope I find you well."

To say that Marie Perrault – now Degardeau was surprised was to put it mildly.  She stood there and stared for a moment before gesturing the couple standing before her into the drawing room of her quaint home.

"I apologize; you took me quite by surprise, Erik.  Horrible of me, I know, but it's been a long time."

"The fault is mine, Madame, I'm sure you never expected to see me of all people appear out of thin air and arrive on your doorstep.  And I apologize for my own lapse in manners."  He turned slightly to indicate Christine,  "Madame Marie Degardeau, Mademoiselle Christine Daae."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Madame Degardeau,"  Christine supplied.

Marie nodded, the confusion clouding her features, yet refinement disallowing her to ask the obvious questions she had.  She turned slightly to Erik, hoping he would understand the quandary.

Erik understood quite well, his brow furrowed behind the mask.  "Madame, I realize that my . . . appearance on your doorstep this afternoon must puzzle you.  I have no wish to make any trouble for you in your new life, I merely,"  Erik paused, his mind searching frantically for the precise way he wanted to word his request.  "I merely require some information, and I was hoping that you could perhaps be of some assistance."

"Of course,"  Marie said without thought as she motioned for them to sit down,  "if I can be of help, I most certainly will.  What kind of information do you require?"

Erik twisted slightly as he sat down next to Christine on the divan, uncomfortable with the questions he knew he had to ask.  He turned to glance at Christine, and received a small nod and a smile of support.  He then turned back to Marie with renewed confidence,  "Madame, Mademoiselle Daae and I wish to marry, and while we were discussing the finer points of the ceremony, we discovered that we may have a problem with some of the more logistical aspects of the legalities.  I realized that there is certain information that one needs in order to marry, information I seemed to be lacking."

Erik paused, and Marie nodded her head in a small show of understanding.  "Whatever information you need, if I have it, I would be pleased to help you."  Her mouth widened into a small smile as she glanced between the two people in the room.

"It had not occurred to me before my decision to ask Christine to marry me that I did not know my own last name, that it was never spoken around me.  And while I thought on that, I realized I did not even know my exact date of birth.  My – she never spoke of it."

Marie's face fell, and she remembered with clarity Erik's fifth birthday, the rage he went into after seeing the face in the mirror.  Herself standing over him, picking the slivers of glass out of his wrists.

"I understand, Erik.  Of course I can help you.  Your full name is Erik Laramie, and your date of birth is July 24, 1831."

Christine smiled as the older woman gave the information they needed so easily.

"Is there any other information you require in your endeavor, Erik dear?"

Erik stood dumbfounded for a moment before testing out his full name for the first time,  "Erik Laramie."  He stayed awestruck for several more minutes, leaving a silence through the room as the two women watched him, a time where Marie's eyes kept glancing toward Christine.

Finally, Erik's gaze turned back to Marie, and his appreciation shone in his eyes beyond the mask.  He realized the question still hung in the air, and thought quickly if there was indeed anything else.  An image of the tombstone in Boscherville flashed through his mind, and it occurred to him that perhaps if Marie knew his name . . .  "There is one other thing, although it has little to do with the reason for our journey."

Marie nodded her acceptance.

"I . . . before we came here, we made a stop in Boscherville, and to the cemetery.  Madame, did you . . . did you know my father?"

Marie's gasp of surprise at the impertinence of the question was quickly replaced by a look of compassion on her face.  "Yes, I did, though not that well.  He and your mother had only been married a short time before he was killed.  But he was a good man, kind, and he loved your mother very much, and looked forward to your birth.  I'm sure, Erik, he would have loved you regardless of . . . well, regardless."

"How did he die?"  Erik asked, his curiosity now peaked.

Marie proceeded to tell Erik all she knew about Charles Laramie, about how his parents met, their journey from Rouen to Boscherville, and then finally, Charles' untimely death.

Erik was near tears at the end of her story, and Christine's face wet from her own.  A silence overcame the room for several minutes as it's members each regained their composure, a silence which was broken by the telltale opening of the front door, and a call from the foyer,  "Marie, _mon petit chou!  I'm home."_

"Gerard!"  Marie gasped, as her suddenly frightened gaze fell on her companions.  She motioned for them to wait there, and started to make her way to the foyer when a tall, distinguished gentleman entered the drawing room.

"Ahh, there you are _mon amour,"  Gerard smiled, and then glanced at the two people on the couch, one of whom was desperately avoiding looking toward the couple standing in the middle of the room, an aversion which Gerard chose to overlook.  "Why didn't you tell me we were expecting company, darling?  I would have come home early!"_

"I . . ."  Marie stammered before regaining her train of thought,  "It was rather unexpected."  She breathed in deeply before moving to make the introductions that polite society indicated were necessary.  "Gerard, may I introduce you to Erik Laramie, and his fiancée, Christine Daae.  Erik is . . . the child of an old friend of mine."

Erik turned his face, and Gerard had his first glimpse at the mask.  If he was shocked to see it, he hid it well, and held out his hand in a gentlemanly fashion.  "Charmed, I'm sure."

Erik muttered a similar sentiment before turning his attention towards Marie,  "It's been a pleasure seeing you again, and I thank you kindly for your hospitality and your time.  I fear we've been enough of a drain on your time already, and we must be going."

"Are you staying nearby?"  Gerard interrupted before Erik could make to leave.

Erik glanced quickly between Marie and Christine, both of whom wore perplexed looks on their own faces, before turning back towards Gerard,  "We hadn't discussed our arrangements as of yet, although I hear there's an excellent hotel on the Rue de St. Patrice."

"Nonsense,"  Gerard protested,  "You shall stay here then."

Marie spun to face her husband in astonishment, although she held her tongue.

"Any son of a friend of Marie's is more than welcome in my house,"  Gerard proclaimed,  and without giving anyone a chance to protest, took his wife's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.  "I'll just go and tell Cook to set two more places for dinner."  And with that he was sweeping out of the room.

Marie stood, still in shock at her husband's whirlwind of an invitation.  She finally motioned to Erik and Christine, and said plainly,  "Well, his overabundance of generosity was one of the things that drew me to him.  I suppose I should show you to your rooms then."

"Really, Madame, that's not necessary,"  Erik protested, the sinking caged feeling setting in once more.  He dropped his voice a few octaves so he could be sure her husband could not hear,  "We both know what will happen when he realizes what lays behind this mask of mine.  I doubt either of us can ever forget the violence in Boscherville."

"No, I can never forget that, but Gerard is not one to be easily overruled.  If he means to invite you as his guest, he won't be dissuaded."

"Erik,"  Christine cut in as she laid an arm on his sleeve,  "It is only one night, after all."

Erik looked to Christine, and one look at the softness of her face, and he reluctantly relented,  "As you wish, my dear."

Christine smiled serenely at him then, as Gerard returned to the drawing room.  The look on the young woman's face toward this masked man was enough to melt all the hearts in the room.

Gerard made his way back to his wife's side,  "It's all arranged, and Cook is sending someone up to ready the guest rooms."

"That is very kind of you, Monsieur Degardeau, to allow us to stay on such short notice,"  Christine answered.

"It's nothing,"  Gerard replied, and he motioned toward them to sit back down.  Christine and Erik sat once more side by side on the divan, and the Degardeaus sat next to each other in the chairs facing the divan.  "So,"  Gerard began,  "what brings the two of you to our fair city?"

Christine could sense Erik's nervousness at such a question, and came to his rescue,  "Erik wished, before our wedding, to learn a little bit about his father.  You see, his father died before he was born, and his mother rarely talked about him.  And his search led him to remember your wife, Monsieur."

Gerard smiled at the unexpressed sentiment,  "Beautiful that.  I can quite understand, Erik, my father died when I was very young as well, and I was not so fortunate to find someone who knew anything about him.  My own mother had loved him too much to be able to talk about him after his passing, I'm afraid, and she died some five years later of a broken heart."  Gerard ruminated for a moment before continuing,  "Laramie, that name is familiar to me.  Did your father at one time live in Rouen?"

Erik looked to Marie before continuing,  "I understand that he met my mother here.  Your wife explained to me that he worked with my grandfather from time to time, and that is how he met my mother."

"Yes, I seem to remember a master mason by the name of Charles Laramie who lived here some years ago . . . horrible accident that killed him, made all the local papers.  Was such a tragedy, and his wife was so young, and had recently lost her parents to boot . . . good people they were, my parents knew them rather well actually.  Cholera, if I'm not mistaken, and they moved away after that.  Would that be him?  What was his wife's name again . . . Maureen?  No, um, oh bother it!"

"Madeleine,"  Marie supplied quietly.  "Her name was Madeleine, Gerard."

"Then it is!  Good god, boy, but your family was well connected around here."  He paused, and looked over at his wife,  "You never told me you knew anyone from around here, darling."

"Gerard, they have all been dead for quite some time now, it's not all that good to speak of the dead, you know."

Gerard nodded his head in agreement,  "Yes, you are quite right my dear, forgive my impudence."  He then turned back toward his company, and continued with his questioning,  "And what field are you in, Erik?"

Erik cleared his throat before answering,  "Over the course of my life, I have worked in many fields, Monsieur.  There are not many fields I have not tried my hand at."

"Interesting that,"  Gerard paused as he pulled out a pocket watch,  "Well, I daresay the two of you will want to freshen up before dinner."  He glanced over at Marie,  "Shall we show them to their rooms, darling?"

"Of course,"  Marie answered quietly as the four occupants of the drawing room stood, and then made their way over to the staircase. 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

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"Should I ask, Marie?"  Gerard asked as he made sure the door to their bedroom was closed behind him.

Marie slowly turned from her dressing table to face her husband.  Her expression showcased the worry and anxiety she had felt since opening the door that afternoon to their guests.  Yet she was not about to make this too easy on him,  "Ask me what, Gerard?"

"Why he is wearing that mask,"  Gerard questioned straightforwardly.

Marie's face fell, and her head dropped to her hands.  Gerard moved his tall form quickly, and knelt down before her.  "I didn't mean to upset you, but you must understand I would be curious."

Marie lifted her head, and her look questioned him.  He shook his head, and as if a silent understanding had passed between them in that moment, Marie spoke,  "Gerard, Erik is . . . his face, it's, well."

"In this day and age, though, you would think it wouldn't matter."

"Gerard, even in this so called day and age, yes, because it's not a simple matter of a minor deformity.  Gerard, Erik's face is something you would expect to see on a corpse."

"Surely you exaggerate!"  Gerard exclaimed.

"No,"  Marie answered quietly.  "Gerard, I've known Erik since he was a babe.  I was his mother's only companion from the time he was born until he ran away at the age of nine.  And in all that time, I think I saw his face twice, once when he was an infant, and on his fifth birthday.  It's . . . it's almost more than a mere deformity, Gerard, more like the stuff of nightmares.  And yet . . . I don't know, Gerard, as a child I always felt so sorry for him, for the way his mother treated him.  But there was little I could do, to be honest.  I suppose I can't atone for that now, can I?"

Gerard merely shook his head, and allowed the silence to take over for a moment, before posing another question,  "What made him seek you out after all this time?"

Marie chuckled as she answered,  "Because he's finally found what his mother denied him all those years ago.  Despite his face, that young woman loves him enough to marry him.  There were some things he needed to know first.  Darling, you know that Boscherville was a somewhat backwards town; for all that I loved it.  He couldn't find the information he sought there, so he came looking for me, knowing I could help him."

"And of course you would help him, for you are a kind soul, my Marie."

"I am sorry, Gerard, that this was sprung on you so, but I had no idea that Erik would ever seek me out again after . . . after his mother's affairs were settled."

"My darling, there is nothing to apologize for.  You are just doing what you think is right, and so was I when I invited them to stay.  All will be well, I promise you." 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

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Dinner passed by in an uncomfortable silence, which was followed by a similar silence which prevailed in the drawing room.  Erik was painfully aware of the glances Gerard was making towards his mask, and wondered if Marie had told her husband of the horror of his face.

After sitting in the drawing room for a time, Gerard finally broke the silence, and invited Erik to join him in his study, where the two men found themselves across a rather large desk from each other.

Gerard leaned back in his chair and held his hands in a tent-like fashion as he mused to his companion,  "You know, you can relax in my presence, Erik, I have no intention of throwing you out of my house simply because of the way you look."

"She told you then,"  Erik sighed, his body more tense now than ever.

"My wife and I have few secrets from each other, my boy.  Of course she told me.  Of course, you must know I had already suspected as much.  It is not every day you meet someone wearing a mask, unless of course you are at a masked ball or some such thing.  Erik, I asked you in here alone because I realize you may have a . . . dilemma."

Erik raised an eyebrow behind the mask.  "Dilemma, Monsieur?  And what might that be?"

"You wish to marry this girl, do you not?"

"Yes,"  Erik answered simply, feeling more uncomfortable by the minute.

"You do realize that there may be . . . issues?"

"Yes, I do Monsieur,"  Erik replied, the malice in his voice barely under control.

"I didn't mean to insult you, Erik, Marie told me that you are a very intelligent man and would likely already know that you may very well have a problem.  I merely wished to bring up the subject without any assumptions on my part."

Erik's tense form relaxed slightly,  "Forgive my quickness to anger, I fear it is not my best trait.  Please continue, Monsieur."

"Please, call me Gerard,"  the older man said without thought.  "I merely wish to help you with your endeavor."

Erik's eyebrow raised, unseen behind the mask.  "Help me?  Why should you wish to do that?"

"Because I knew your father, Erik, knew him quite well."

Curiosity sparked to life in Erik's eyes at this strange turn of events, although he allowed the pause that Gerard left without comment.

"You see, Erik, your father was my half brother."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

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***Author's Note:  The name Laramie in French means tears of love, thus the name of the chapter.**

Kudos to Kates and Kirby Russell for noticing the pattern of my previous chapters, and now that someone has a disclaimer that all but the title of this chapter and the prologue come from Celine Dion's "_That's The Way It Is." (Yes, that does include the title of the story, what can I say, I love Celine!)_

Note to angelofnight:  I'm doing a lot of research to see if JP's were around in 1881 France (The thought had crossed my mind), and trust me, it's mind boggling because I just can NOT find a definitive article on it . . . although I did come across some other interesting research on French documentation that supports some of my original assumings.

Alexis:  You're more than welcome!

All my other reviewers, you know who you are:  More coming soon!!!!!****


	9. Chapter Eight: But It's Plain To See

**Chapter Eight:  But It's Plain To See**

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"Your . . ."  Erik trailed off.  Whatever he had expected, this was the farthest from his imagination!

Gerard nodded,  "Yes, shortly after Charles was born, his father died, leaving my mother alone with an infant.  He was around five when our mother met my father, and re-married.  I came shortly after."

Erik stood, the anger and sadness seeping out through every pore of his body as he stalked to the window and stared out into the snow.   His hands fisted themselves up and relaxed numerous times as he attempted to bring his rage under control at this startling new revelation. 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

In the drawing room, Marie and Christine had settled into a comfortable camaraderie as Marie recounted events of Erik's earliest childhood.  Christine sat poised, her curiosity evident as her eyes widened at some of the more outrageous stories.

"I can't believe Erik could have caused that much mischief,"  Christine sighed, even as she knew that Marie was leaving out some of the finer points of Erik's childhood.  "They were lucky to have such a good friend as you, Madame."

"Marie, please, my dear, call me Marie."

Christine nodded and blushed,  "Marie."

"I take it Erik has not told you much about his childhood then?"

Christine shook her head as she spoke,  "No, he's strangely quiet about a lot of his past.  I do know some things . . ."  she trailed off, her hands spreading in a gesture of supplication,  "I know he and his mother did not get along well, that he ran away at a rather young age.  And I know I look very much like her."

"Yes, you do resemble Madeleine a great deal, yet you have an inner glow that in later years, she lacked.  I'm very much afraid that she did not treat Erik well, and yet, the night he ran away would have changed everything for her.  After he was gone, she talked about him incessantly, something Erik steadfastly refuses to believe.  She always hoped that she could find him, that he would return in time for her to show him her change of heart, for her to show him that she had, indeed come to love him.  He did eventually return, but it was too late, she had died three days prior."

Christine's face fell, realizing just how different Erik's last few years could have been if he had only returned sooner.

"And yet, now that the two of you are here, I feel like I will worry less about him.  Because now I can see that he has found the love he was so long denied."

Christine blushed now as the smile returned to her face.  "Then you did worry about him all these years."

"Yes, I did, even though I could never tell anyone.  After he was born, the village shunned Madeleine, and to some extent me as well, as I continued my friendship with her.  My mother wouldn't hear anything about it; she tried to pretend the house at the edge of the village did not exist."

Christine's frown returned for thought of the injustices of Erik's past.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Erik stood unmoving before the window, fearing that his rage would totally overtake him now that he knew that he had been denied once again.

Gerard rose to his feet and stood a few steps behind Erik, full aware of the rage that was coursing through the younger man.

"I should have handled that better.  I had not known who you were at first, not until I heard your last name, and asked about your father."

"Does your wife know of our . . . _relation?"_

"No, I didn't have a chance to tell her.  I will likely discuss it with her tonight.  I never thought that . . . Erik, I only met your mother once, and that was at her wedding.  Your father and I had separated after our mother's death, I was but twelve, and he nineteen, already a man of the world.  I had heard that your mother was pregnant, but after he died, I never heard any more.  I fear I assumed you dead as well.  Until tonight, that is."

Erik's hands balled into fists again and a gain as he tried to assuage his irrational anger toward this startling revelation.  "All these years, believing myself to be without a blood tie in the world, only to find out now . . ."  he whispered hoarsely.  He finally rounded on Gerard, his _uncle, and the full measure of anger shone through the eyes behind the mask, his tone accusatory,  "And what would you have done if you had known, ****__Monsieur__?  More likely you would have been like all the rest, like ****__her!"_

Gerard took a step back before composing himself,  "I can not say what I would have done, Erik.  I would like to think I would have shown some care to you, but I know I was a selfish boy, never caring for anyone, really.  I can not now say what would have been then, all I can do is try to rectify the future, to perceive things as they are now, and try to be the man I now aspire to be.  To claim that I have a nephew, now that I do know."  Gerard paused, stepped forward, and laid a gentle hand on Erik's shoulder, then watched as Erik's fists relaxed at the unaccustomed show of emotion.  "I wish to help you in the way I could not help my brother.  I couldn't even bring myself to attend his funeral.  Now perhaps I can right the wrong that I did all those years ago.  All I have left is you, and Marie.  I had two sons by my late wife, both of whom died at a young age.  There is no one else, and I've always desperately craved to have family around.  Yes, Erik, even family such as yourself.  We all wear masks of one form or another, my boy, yours is merely more obvious.  Your face does not scare me, for it's in your heart that true beauty lies, something that Marie took great pains over these past ten years to teach me."

Gerard could see the glimmer of a tear behind the mask, as one formed in his own eyes.  "Let me show you the meaning of family, my boy.  Run no more from your past, as I know you have been running your whole life.  Don't disappear now that we've found each other, now that we've discovered we have a tie in the world yet.  Allow me to be an uncle to you, and to your children one day, for I have no doubt you and your young lady are in love and will eventually have children.  Let me do this one pure thing, with no strings attached for you to worry over, Erik.  Allow me that peace."

Erik stood dumbstruck before his uncle, before slowly nodding his assent.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Later that evening, Erik sat in the guest room he had been assigned, looking down at his hands in awe.

The killing rage had been strong within him that night, and he had managed to ignore it.  It had occurred to him just how rare that had been in his lifetime.

_'These hands, a murderer's hands.__  This face, this monster's face.  And yet this man I do not know from Adam has accepted me, no questions asked, no strings attached.  When was the last time that had happened?'_

Giovanni had known at a glance what he was, of that he had always been sure, and yet for two years, he had felt the kind of acceptance he felt tonight.  That unconditional opening of doors, something he had so rarely encountered in his fifty years.

_'Oh, how would my life have been different if it could have been this way all those years ago?'_

And yet, he could not find the regret he knew should be there.  For he knew that if he had not run away from home, spent time with the Gypsies, and without that, he would never have met Giovanni that day at the building site, and surely, if he had never met Giovanni, he would not have set to work on the Opera house and would never have met Christine!

His mind latched on that one thought, and slowly the realization came to him that if it had not been for the sadness, he would never have found the ecstatic joy he felt at a mere look from Christine. 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

"He's _what?"  Marie asked in surprise as Gerard sat across from her in their bed that night._

Gerard sighed, glad she hadn't screamed at the thought as he had feared she might.  "My nephew, Marie.  Erik is my nephew."

Marie gasped in shock, as her hand flew once more to her withered breast.  "Gerard, if Erik is your nephew, how come you never spoke of him before?"

"I told you of my brother, if you'll remember, but I had no idea that his child still lived, Marie.  And apparently neither of us put together that my brother had married your childhood friend."

"You merely called him Charles, Gerard, you do realize just how many men there are in this world with that name?"

"Of course I do."

"How is it possible, though?"

"Charles was my half-brother, Marie.  We shared a mother, but his father died when he was an infant.  Then, our mother met my father.  It is not so uncommon, you know."

"Yes, I know my darling, I just never imagined that Erik . . . what do you intend to do?  Are you going to tell him?"

"I already did,"  Gerard answered simply.

"You already . . ."

"Yes."

"And how did he take the news?"

"Not well at first, but now he seems resigned.  Marie, there is something else we need to discuss."

Marie paled, almost as if she sensed what was coming.  "What is that?"

Gerard glanced at his hands momentarily before his eyes returned to his wife.  "I promised Erik I would help him with his marriage to Mademoiselle Daae."

Marie sighed,  "Why should I expect you would do different, Gerard?  I know well how you feel about family, how much you miss having your family."

"Then you do not disapprove?"

"Would it make much difference?"

"Doubtful,"   Gerard answered honestly as he reached out for Marie's hands and encircled them with his own.  "I need to make amends to Charles, and to Erik for denying him family all these years, Marie."

"I understand, my darling,"  Marie replied simply as Gerard reached out to draw her into his arms.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Christine found sleep did not come easy that night, as she tossed and turned through the night.  Dawn came slowly, and she resigned herself to a sleepless night as she climbed out of the comfortable bed and started getting ready for the day.

She looked around the beautiful guest room, and realized why it was she had slept so poorly.  Even in their time at the inn in Boscherville, she had known Erik was nearby, even if he refused to sleep in the bed with her on those nights.

~~~~~

_"Traveling is one thing, Christine, but I refuse to take the chance of ruining your reputation here."_

~~~~~

He had been so stout in his decision, even though she knew he longed for the way it had been while they were on the road as much as she did.

_'In due time, Christine, in due time,' she reminded herself as she washed._

She smiled as she looked at herself in the mirror.  It was only a matter of time, and she would be Erik's wife.  The thought thrilled her to no end.

Her reverie was interrupted shortly by a soft knocking on the door.  She fastened the last button on her dress and drew herself away from the mirror.  She opened the door to find Erik, leaning gracefully on the doorjamb.  Christine smiled at the sight of him, and stepped back to allow him into the room.

Erik moved with his usual cat-like grace into the room, and waited for her to close the door, which she did quickly, and moved to embrace him.

"We have some things to talk about, Christine,"  Erik said simply as he kissed the top of her head.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

**Author's Notes:  Glad to see everyone liked my little surprise, may I say it was a surprise for me as well, I hadn't known I was going to do that until I had Erik and Gerard in the room together in the end of the last chapter.**

As for Marie's and Gerard's ages . . . I did a little calculating.  I based this phic off of Kay, and we know from both Kay and Leroux that the bulk of the Erik/Christine story happened in 1881.  (I'm placing this phic somewhere in Nov-Dec 1881)  Based on information found throughout Kay's book, that would put Madeline's year of birth somewhere in 1814, and I am assuming Marie was the same age as they went to school together, which would make Marie in 1881 around 67.  For Gerard, I went on the fact that Charles was fifteen years older than Madeline (and Marie) and placed Gerard as being seven years younger than Charles, making him eight years older than Marie, which would mean he is 75.  This is not all that impossible, even in 1881 France.  Unlikely, maybe, but then again if I'm not mistaken, Queen Victoria of England, who would have been ruling about this time period, lived to nearly 100.  Just my two cents.

All of you have been so wonderful in your reviews!  You're really making me enjoy posting this story even more.  I'm currently working on chapter nine now, hopefully I'll have it ready within a few days.

And as a final note, just to let those of you know that if you add me to author alerts (the option is there in the little drag down menu where the submit review button is) you can, and as I have support services it will work even if you don't!

**_@_****_}----,----- __Stemwinder _****_----,-----{_****_@_**


	10. Chapter Nine: If You Stick Together

**Chapter Nine:  If You Stick Together**

****

Erik and Christine made their way downstairs about an hour later, Christine's face still showing a bit of the shock at Erik's news.  They were met in the dining room by Marie and Gerard, who were taking in a leisurely breakfast.

Gerard was the first to notice the couple coming into their midst.  His head came up from his newspaper, and he smiled as the two made their way into the two 'guest seats.'  "Ah, Erik, Christine, good morning!  I trust you both slept well?"

Christine merely nodded, still unable to speak through her shock, and Erik replied on his own,  "Yes, fine thank you."

Gerard glanced questioningly between Christine and Erik a few times before his gaze finally rested on his nephew.  Erik simply nodded, hoping the older man would understand.

"I see,"  Gerard mumbled as he refolded the paper.  "I did as well, so I don't see any reason to go on in veiled circles any longer.  I am seeing someone this afternoon about the proceedings.  Perhaps the two of you would wish to join me, Erik?"

Erik turned his gaze toward Christine,  "If that is alright with you, my dear?"

Christine looked up to meet his gaze, and the confusion finally left her face as she smiled,  "Of course."

"Good, it's settled then.  The appointment is at noon."  Gerard stood from the table and picked up his plate, then spoke again,  "I do have a little business to attend to before we leave, so if you will all excuse me, I shall meet up with you at a quarter to."  He then proceeded with his plate to the kitchen area, and then back through the dining room, stopped to give his wife a quick kiss and an "I love you" and was out the front door.

Marie finally spoke to the pair,  "I must say, I was a bit shocked when Gerard told me of your . . . relationship to him, Erik."

"If it bothers you, Madame . . ."

"Not in the least.  I know Gerard has had a longing for family, even before I met him nearly eleven years ago.  The two of you will be good for each other, Erik dear.  You've needed family for a good many years now yourself.  I know you've finally found love, now you've found more.  I daresay Gerard already told you that you are always welcome here, the both of you."

Christine glanced at Erik after Marie paused in her little speech, and she could see Erik's skin redden just slightly in areas where the mask did not hide his skin.

"Yes, he did Madame."

"Good,"  Marie answered simply as the cook came out with two more plates filled with food and set them before Erik and Christine.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Christine watched as Erik paced nervously about the drawing room, wishing there was some way to calm the nervous energy she could sense pulsing through him.  The power pulsing through the air in his presence was no more diminished here than it was on the house by the lake, and the thought secretly filled Christine with a strange delight.

"It's almost time, Erik,"  Christine broke the silence softly, her voice barely more than a strangled whisper.

Erik nearly spun, a sight that was just as impressive without the cape he favored when they went out.  His own voice came in hushed tones as he answered,  "Yes, I know."  He stalked over to where Christine sat and knelt before her.  "I can only hope this goes well, he did not tell me exactly what he had planned, I know it was for fear of giving me false hope, but I have to believe if there is a way for us to be married without . . ."  his voice choked slightly, and he fought for a moment go get past the lump that had suddenly taken up residence in his throat,  "without certain papers that we lack, that Gerard can do it.  He's certainly determined enough."

Christine smiled sweetly, her face surprisingly angelic,  "Yes, he is.  I realize just how lucky we are to find him, Erik."

Erik gave her hand a gentle squeeze,  "Yes, we are at that."

The door in the foyer swung open, allowing a shock of cold air to blow through the house before it banged closed again, and the blast of air was followed shortly by Gerard entering the drawing room.

His eyebrow quirked at the charming tableau before him, and his question shortly found voice,  "Are you both ready then?"

Erik rose slowly, and offered his hand to Christine as she stood as well.  Finally having conquered the lump in his throat, Erik's voice betrayed none of it's previous worry when he answered melodically,  "Yes, very much so."

Together the three walked out into the light of the day. 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

They arrived at the church without a second glance being spared their way in the streets, and the three of them let out a collective sigh of relief, although Erik was still very tense as he looked to Gerard in question, a question he never had a chance to ask as a young priest came up to inquire their business.  The electricity crackled in the air as the young man looked upon Erik's mask with open curiosity and wariness.

"Yes, Father Margot,"  Gerard answered,  "I have an appointment with Monsignor Dominique this afternoon."

"Yes, Monsieur Degardeau, the Monsignor is expecting you,"  Father Margot replied as he motioned for them to follow him, and then paused and gestured them to stay in a rather large foyer just beyond the nave.

The three stood in silence for several tense moments, both Christine and Gerard sensing Erik's wariness of what was to come, when the silence was broken by the door which the young Father Margot had disappeared into opening.  The now open door revealed a wizened, older man in a monsignor's robes.

"Ah, Gerard!  I've been expecting you,"  the elderly priest boomed without preamble, his voice belying his frail appearance.  "This way, if you please."

Erik, Gerard, and Christine followed Monsignor Dominique into his inner sanctuary, where the priest motioned them into a small sitting room and four cozy armchairs which formed a near circle.  The priest sank into one of the chairs with a sigh as his companions each claimed one for their own.

Monsignor Dominique broke the silence that had fallen,  "So Gerard, I know something must be serious must be for you to ask to meet me on such short notice."

"Yes, serious indeed, Quentin.  Albeit a happy serious.  I need a favor of sorts."

"A favor, Gerard?"  Quentin Dominique's right eyebrow raised with the question.  "As much as you've done for this parish over the years, you know there is little I can deny you.  As a friend, even less."

Gerard smiled,  "Yes, as I hoped."  He paused and indicated his companions,  "but forgive my deplorable manners,  my nephew, Erik Laramie, and his fiancée Christine Daae."

"Nephew?"  Quentin asked.  "Charles' boy I take it?"

"Yes,"  Gerard nodded.  "They have a rather . . . singular problem, Quentin."

The priest studied Erik cautiously for a moment before speaking again,  "I can only imagine what problem would cause Charles Laramie's son to wear a mask, although if I have not missed my guess, it would not surprise me that Madeleine would not have it so.  Continue, Gerard."

Gerard glanced from the corner of his eye at Erik, and noted the stiffening of his nephew's arms at the mention of his mother's name.  "As I said, they wish to be married, yet they are missing some documentation that the new republic requires you to keep.  I had hoped, perhaps, we might find the way around that." 

Quentin smiled ruefully, his glance darting between Erik and Christine throughout, and he had noticed the quick looks the couple had spared for each other.  "By documentation, you mean?"

"Erik is lacking a birth certificate, yet if I'm not mistaken that can be waved if a family member vouches for his identity, correct?"

"Correct, Gerard, and I have no doubt you would vouch for Erik."

"Of course,"  Gerard answered without pause.

"And Mademoiselle . . . Daae?"

"Yes Monsignor?"  Christine replied.

"I am to assume you can also vouch for yourself?"

"Yes, Monsignor."

"Then I see no problem,"  Quentin smiled openly now.

The reaction on Erik and Christine's faces as the old priest said that were of pure ecstatic joy, interchanged quickly between them as they reached out simultaneously and grasped the other's hand.

"Have the two of you discussed a date?"  Quentin inquired.

Another quick glance between Erik and Christine, before Erik's reply,  "No, we haven't as yet, Monsignor, as we had not been sure with my lack of paperwork . . ." he trailed off at the priest's stunned look from the mere sound of his speaking voice.  It was a look he had seen often, and yet, he was almost glad he had not spoken before, as now he knew that the priest was not a mere puppet to his vocal cords.

"Then perhaps you would like to take this evening to discuss it, and meet me here tomorrow afternoon and finish up with the details?"

One more glance between Christine and Erik in which Christine nodded her head in approval,  "Yes,"  Erik spoke for them,  "That would be perfect.  What time, Monsignor?"

"I am free tomorrow at one in the afternoon,"  Quentin Dominique replied simply.  And with that he rose, as did the other occupants of the room,  "I look forward to seeing you then."

Erik stopped to shake his hand before parting, and whispered to the priest,  "Thank you, Monsignor Dominique."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

**Authors Notes:  First, to Rose, thank you for the information on Queen Victoria (yeah, you can tell it's been a long time since my High School European History classes!)  And I can only say, well, Marie was by no means from a poor family, as Erik was born into middle class, I have to assume that Marie lived in a similar fashion to Madeleine.**

Ash:  I only took out the Celine song in chapter seven so far, but then I had also started going out of order in the lyrics, so now I'm starting to have a problem fitting the lyrics to the chapters . . . although eight and nine were fairly easy, I already used the next line so I have to skip yet again!  ARRRGH!  I'm about to start perusing through other Celine songs for good chapter titles just so I can keep some of that flow going J

Deirdre:  Yeah, I've seen fics like that too, which is just why I have to be different, and no apology necessary, I'm kinda glad I had someone a little bit worried, shows you're paying attention J

And I hope you all like this chapter . . . it didn't come as easy as the others and I fear that the logistics of the story are making me stray a bit from my original focus which was the Erik / Christine relationship . . . I do, however, have some really nice E/C scenes plotted out for the near future.

Questions I want to raise:  Will they return to Paris?  Will Christine continue to sing at the opera house?  And will this wedding go off without a hitch (or an objection?)  Let me know what you think!


	11. Chapter Ten: Don't Worry, Forget Your S...

****

**Chapter Ten:  Don't Worry, Forget Your Sorrow**

They arrived back at the house with a bounce in their step, and Marie remarked on that the moment they entered the drawing room.

"All went well?  It certainly looks like it did!"

The light in Erik's eyes shone past the hollows of the mask,  "Yes, all went well Madame."

Marie smiled full out,  "So when is the wedding?"

Erik and Christine stole another glance at each other, and it was Christine who spoke,  "We still have to discuss that."

Marie nodded, walked over to her husband, and whispered a little something in his ear.  Gerard also nodded, and the two of them discreetly left the drawing room, making certain to close the door behind them.

"Rather nice of them to leave us to discuss this,"  Erik remarked.

"Yes, it was.  Erik, we've never discussed the finer points of this you know."

"Yes, I know my dear."  They sat down side by side on the divan, and Erik took Christine's hands in his own.  "I think the first question should be, how long do we wish to wait?"

Christine smiled shyly,  "Erik, I know this will sound forward of me, but I don't want to wait that long.  We . . . we skirted the issue of our feelings for quite a long time as it was, you know."

Erik stared deep in her eyes as she continued.

"I know you enough I think to realize that you were in love with me long before you ever asked me to marry you.  And by now you must have realized that I . . . that even though at first I didn't realize I was, that I have felt the same for quite some time."

"I knew you needed to work your feelings out, and I still wonder if I didn't push you to realization."

Christine frowned slightly,  "No, not really.  I realized it, I just didn't want to admit it right off.  There is a difference, Erik."

Erik smiled in answer as he brought one of her hands up to his lips for a gentle kiss.

"You have not told me if you wish to wait a while, Erik."

Erik's eyebrow quirked almost in question, his voice almost gravelly as he answered,  "I have no more desire to wait than you do, _mon amour."_

The light danced in Christine's eyes, and Erik knew she had an idea.  She motioned to Erik to bring his ear close, and whispered a date within.

As Erik drew back, his own eyes alighted with mirth.  "I think, that if Monsignor Dominique is agreeable that we may marry on that day, that I would very much like it.  And since we agree on that point, Christine, the other question would be is there anyone we wish to invite to this little repast."

Christine's eyes were still dancing as she answered,  "I think it would be only logical to invite Marie and Gerard, after all, if it were not for them we would not be as far as we are."

"Of course, I was merely wondering if there was anyone special to you yet that you wished there."

Christine lifted her free hand to her lips in a moment of pondering.  "I don't exactly know how you will accept this idea, Erik, but if it is at all possible, I should like to invite Meg.  She has been my dearest friend for a while now."

Erik sighed in relief; he had almost feared she would suggest the Vicomte.  "We shall endeavor to have her there, then."

Christine smiled knowingly.  "And what about you, Erik.  Other than Marie and Gerard, of course?"

"Nadir,"  Erik answered without thought,  "I daresay he would get a great deal of merriment out of this, knowing that I've given up the ghost."

"Then it's settled, isn't it?"

"Yes, my dear,"  Erik replied as Christine slipped fully into his arms and they sealed the deal with a long, entrancing kiss. 

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

An hour later, Gerard and Marie re-entered the room where Erik and Christine were still sitting side by side on the divan, totally entranced by the discussion they had begun.

It took a cough from Gerard to bring the two of them out of their little world, and as they turned their gazes over to the older couple, they couldn't help but smile.

"Am I to assume, then, that the two of you have worked out the details?"  Gerard asked humbly.

"Yes, we have,"  Erik answered.  "And of course, we would both be honored if you would attend.  The official invitation, however, won't be extended until after we confirm our hoped for date with Monsignor Dominique tomorrow."

Marie and Gerard both nodded in satisfaction.  "It's settled, then, whatever day you have chosen, I shall make certain to clear my calendar."

"And,"  Erik continued,  "after we are certain of the arrangements,"  he paused, looked to Christine and squeezed her hand,  "we will have to return to Paris to take care of two other invitations."

Gerard smiled at the couple, then interrupted quietly,  "Well, if there are guests, you must be certain to tell them they are welcome to stay here."

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@ _**

The next afternoon, Erik and Christine hurried over to the church, and wound up there a good fifteen minutes early in their haste.

The vestibule was quiet as they waited in one of the rear pews, each feeling the nervousness coursing throughout the other.

And it was there that Quentin Dominique found them, side by side and holding hands, when he emerged from the nave.  "Ah, somehow I knew that you would be early."

Erik and Christine rose in tandem from the pew and came out to face the priest who had spoken behind them.

Monsignor Dominique once again led them to his sitting room, and they sat down in the same chairs they had the day before.  "I take it you have decided upon a date then, _mes__ enfants?"_

"Yes, Monsignor, we have,"  Erik answered solemnly.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

****

**Author's Notes:  Yeah, I know this one is short, but only because it's really a filler before what is to come!**

KR:  Oh, it's not that Erik has not been seen, after all, he was seen by a few priests, but by and far, he's been trying to stay out of the public eye.  In Rouen, I'm sure it's a bit easier, larger city of course, not many people really took a second glance.

angelofnight:  As for Father Mansart, you'll notice I made a little treat for you, entitled "All I Can See Is Your Face" as I didn't really see a way of fitting his death into this phic.  Especially seeing as how he's been gone a good thirty years or so!  But you get credit for the inspiration, of course, and I'm looking forward to that new phic you promised me!  I think I've read all the new ones on the board so far (chants for new phics!)

Everyone else:  Sorry if this chapter bored you a bit, but Erik and Christine have a VERY sweet idea for their wedding date, and I think that when I reveal it, you will like it.  And there may be some surprises yet at that wedding!

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****_Stemwinder_**** -----'-----{@**


	12. Chapter Eleven: Love Is Going To Conque...

**Chapter Eleven:  Love Is Going To Conquer It All**

They returned to Degardeau Cottage once more in high spirits, and it was immediately evident to the residents within that there was an excited electricity between the couple as they entered.

"The next question is, Erik, how soon do we deliver our other invitations?"  Christine asked excitedly as they took off their cloaks in the front foyer.

"We only have three weeks, my dear, and I daresay that both Nadir and Meg would like **_some notice would they not?"_**

"I would certainly think so,"  Christine's reply was automatic.  "How long do you think it will take us to get to Paris and then back?"

"A good two days or so to get there, and at least that back of course, and the rest, I would say depends on how long we stay in between.  I know the two weeks that Andre and Firmin gave you is coming to a close shortly, and I'll daresay have to leave them another note."

Christine rolled her eyes in humor at Erik's statement.  "You have them eating out of the palm of your hand, don't you Erik?"

"These new two are not as easy to deal with as Poligny was, of course, but I'm sure that La Carlotta has not been haranguing them in your absence.  I daresay they will be in a rather ill humor upon our return, however.  They never have quite realized the bargain they have in me.  A good ghost is so hard to come by."

"You're incorrigible, Erik."

"Why thank you my dear,"  Erik replied with mock severity as he gave a stiff little bow.  He paused then, as he gave the opera house a thought.  "You do realize, Christine, that Meg's mother may not be very thrilled at the thought of her traveling to Rouen without a proper chaperone?"

"The thought had crossed my mind.  I had rather hoped that Madame Giry would not mind Meg traveling with me, though."

"Hmmm quite possibly so.  I can only hope you are right on that point,"  Erik mused as they finally made their way into the empty drawing room.  Erik pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at the time,  "Gerard and Marie should be back any moment now, no doubt they will be bursting with questions."

Christine smiled at the thought of their benefactors.  She stood close to Erik, taking his hand in hers once more,  "I am so glad that we found them, Erik."

"As am I, my dear,"  Erik smiled, albeit a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Christine quirked her eyebrow at his expression, but did not have a chance to ask the obvious question, for they heard the foyer door opening and the sound of laughter ensued.

"Gerard, you are impossible!"  Marie chuckled.

"No, more like I'm incorrigible!"

"That too, my darling.  Do you think they're home yet?"

"If they're not, we shall just have to contrive to amuse ourselves until they return and indulge our curiosity, won't we?"

"Yes, Gerard, did I mention I am quite looking forward to this wedding?"

"I'm not surprised, women usually love a good wedding, don't they?"  Gerard asked as they entered the drawing room and found the couple in question.  "Ah, Erik, Christine!  We were just talking about you!"

Erik chuckled,  "Yes, so we could hear.  You're curiosity getting the better of you, then?"

"Yes, I must admit it is,"  Marie answered for her husband.

"Then let us help you with that particular problem,"  Christine offered as she walked toward the older couple.  From her pocket, she took a piece of parchment and handed it to Marie.  "Our wedding invitation, as it were."

Marie and Gerard came close together as they read it in tandem, and Marie was the first to break a smile as she left Gerard with the paper and came to hug Christine,  "A Christmas wedding, how wonderful!  I do love it.  Have you given a thought to your dress yet, dear?  If not, I do know a good seamstress or two who do wonders on short notice."

Christine glanced back at Erik as both of them remembered the dress that waited at the house on the lake.  Erik shrugged his shoulders as he answered,  "It is what makes you happy, my dear, that matters, you know that.  Besides, is the custom not that it is bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding?"

Marie and Gerard cast a questioning eye between the other couple, not catching the sobriquet of the discussion.

"That is indeed the custom,"  Christine replied.

"Then by all means,"  Erik gestured, his hands spreading in a manner that showed total acceptance.

Christine smiled shyly back at him, and then turned to the older couple.

"It's settled then,"  Marie put in.  "We can go tomorrow, if you like."

Once more Christine turned to Erik, and he answered for her,  "Of course.  My dear, we had not discussed the journey we both know comes next, but I would say we can wait at least one more day."

"Journey?"  Gerard questioned.

"We do have to return to Paris, as I said, we have a few other invitations to give out.  And I have some business of my own to attend to,"  Erik answered in simplicity.

Gerard nodded in understanding, and gave a reply of his own,  "It would probably make it easier all around, of course, if you returned with your guests, would it not?  How long would your business take, Erik?"

Erik shrugged once more,  "Not long, I should assume, more though, I don't feel quite comfortable to keep taking advantage of your generosity, Gerard.  I fear you may tire of us yet."

"Nonsense, Erik, you're family, and your friends are our friends."  Gerard waved the sentiment away.  "Besides, there are certainly more details to tend to, even for such a small wedding.  Only two or three guests besides ourselves, you said?"

"Yes,"  Erik answered solemnly.

"We'd both prefer it to be as private as possible,"  Christine added as she once more took her place at Erik's side.

Marie and Gerard nodded in understanding, and Gerard continued in his earlier vein,  "Then having your guests here is not a problem.  Is it, Marie?"

"Certainly not,"  Marie concurred.  "The two of you tend to whatever business you have to, then hurry back.  After, of course, out little trip tomorrow, Christine."

Christine and Erik exchanged a glance between them, and both relented to the generosity of the older couple.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****


	13. Chapter Twelve: When Life Is Empty

**Chapter Twelve:  When Life Is Empty**

****

And so, two days later, Erik and Christine left the comfort of Degardeau cottage and set off for Paris.

Leaving had been a somewhat tear-filled affair, as Marie was sad to see her young friend leave.  The dress hunting of the day before had gone well, and Christine had picked what she thought would be the perfect dress for marrying the love of her life.  Marie had been thrilled with the choice as well, and would be picking the dress up as soon as it was finished.  Erik and Christine had promised to return to Rouen within two weeks, and Gerard once again insisted that they bring their guests with them.

As if he knew what that would entail, Gerard also made sure that the couple took his carriage with them, to make the ride a bit more pleasant, he had said.  Erik had tried to dismiss the thought, but Gerard would hear nothing of it.  Although he did give in when Erik said that use of a driver was unnecessary.

The comfortable camaraderie that Erik and Christine had shared on the way to Rouen was not diminished in any way, in fact, if anyone had taken notice of them, they would have said the couple was positively glowing.

The peace continued until after they had stopped for the night.

The carriage was of an open air type, but it at least provided a place for them to rest without sleeping on the ground the way they had on the first leg of their journey.  They pulled into a clearing in the woods, off the side of the main road, and made camp.  And after eating a quiet supper, they settled into the carriage for the night.

The quiet of the night was suddenly shattered as the moon hit the high point of it's ascent, by the sound of three rather loud, drunken voices.

"I say, Remy, a carriage!  You know what that means, my friend."

"I do at that, Tas,"  Remy replied into the night.  "So, what do you think, Alain?"

"Let's go,"  Alain voted, and the three men moved slowly toward the carriage.

Remy was the first to peer his head over the top, and saw the sleeping woman.  His hand reached out towards her, but was quickly pulled back as the Punjab lasso found it's way around his thick neck.  Remy sputtered for a mere moment before he fell.

Tas and Alain, who had crept up on the other side of the carriage, did not see their friend's quiet fall, so quite unwittingly Alain made his way up as well, but did not even have the chance to reach out when he too was pulled back.

Tas saw this time, saw the glint of the mask in the moonlight as his friend fell to the ground beside him.  His gasp came loud in the still night air, and he dropped to his knees before the shadowy figure in front of him.

"We weren't going to hurt her, I swear we weren't!"  Tas supplicated in his native Romany tongue

Erik rounded on the swarthy man, the Punjab Lasso still in his hand as the burning rage lighted in his eyes.  "Then what were you planning to do?"  he answered in the tongue he had not spoken in nearly thirty five years.

Tas was taken aback by the man's words, and his cultured, yet very accurate use of his native language.  "How . . ." and without finishing his sentence, he dropped further to the ground.  "I never thought to ever see **_you again!"_**

"And it may well be the last thing you see."

"Erik?"  Christine called out from the carriage as she glanced around in the shadows, and finally saw the tableau in front of her, the man on the ground who was quite obviously dead, the man on his knees before Erik.  Her gasp of surprise was quick, loud, and drew Erik's attention away from Tas long enough for the Romany to make his move.  In one pounce, he was on Erik's back, and the knife came from his pocket.

"Erik, look out!"  Christine cried out at the same moment that Erik's hand made purchase with the same knife and wrenched it from Tas's hand.

The Romany grasped his obviously broken hand as Erik stepped back, the knife in his own hand now.  Out of the corner of his eye he could still see Christine, the look of horror on her face, and he turned to the wounded man.

"Get out of my sight before I see to it that this is your last night on Earth!"  Erik shouted in Romany.

Tas, realizing that his best bet was to heed the man before him, stood up without thought, and still grasping his broken hand, ran out into the night.

After Tas was out of sight, Erik finally dropped the knife to the ground and hung his head.  He slowly turned to Christine, his head still very near his chest, and the tears streaming from his eyes as he heard her soft sobbing.  And yet, he couldn't move, found himself rooted to the spot where he stood.

It was Christine who finally broke the spell of the dreadful night, as she ran to Erik's side and wrapped her arms around his middle.

"Forgive me,"  she whispered.

Erik's arms found their way around her as well, and when he met her eyes, the question was written within,  "Forgive you for what?  It is I who should be asking your forgiveness."

"If I hadn't called to you, he wouldn't have nearly stabbed you,"  Christine replied, her voice not much more than a whisper.

"I never wanted you to see that side of me, Christine, but when they came up like that . . ."

"I know you were only protecting me, Erik,"  Christine quietly responded as the reason for his guilt finally occurred to her.  "Can we . . . can we get away from this?"

Erik nodded, the motion going undetected but was unneeded as he lead her back to the carriage.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

The rest of the journey continued in silence, as they were both filled with their own thoughts.  Erik dared not stop again, for fear of a repeat performance.  So, they rode straight through the day and the next night, and finally arrived in Paris shortly after mid-day.  The carriage made its way down the narrow side streets, and finally turned and stopped near the Opera.  Erik handed Christine the reins, and pulled a purse out of a secret pocket of his cloak.  Christine took it silently and put it in her own pocket, and then reached over and laid her hand on his arm as he was about to climb out of the carriage.

Erik paused and his gaze rested on her eyes.  They stayed like that for a silent moment, before Christine leaned over and gave him a small smile.

Erik returned the smile, the first sign of reassurance either of them had shown since the incident the previous night, and his hand sought out hers and gave it a gentle squeeze before he continued his exodus.

Alone now, Christine drove the carriage around to the Opera stables, and after taking care of the stable hand, slowly made her way into the Palace Garnier.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

**Author's Notes:  Yes, another somewhat short chapter.  Next chapter, I'll be getting away from the lyrics again, as Erik and Christine will return to Paris to deliver their invitations, and perhaps create a little more mayhem along the way!**

Emmy:  I've read about half of "Candle In The Darkness" and am so far enjoying it (I want to finish it before leaving my review) but this phic keeps calling me to write, so I'm saving the rest for a treat for writing what I need to.

Marianne:  Working hard so that you will have plenty of chapters to come back to, and possibly (gasp!) the end.  I'm thinking right now that there can't be much more than five more chapters, but then, my Muse is a VERY fickle creature, so we shall see!  (And do you think people will be too upset if I did put the "Kiss the Bride" part in?  Even if it's not totally authentic?)

Deirdre:  Hope that Geometry test came out okay!  And yes, the Daroga's coming back very soon (I think that will be about two chapters from now or so!)

And to the blank reviewer:  I don't know about Mamma Valerius, but we shall see.  I'm afraid I based this off of Kay so far, and Mama wasn't there ::: Sigh ::: hmmm, maybe . . . *Thinks hard*

angelofnight:  I should HOPE I hear first!  You know I can't wait!

Everyone Else:  Hope you're enjoying as this tale starts to wind down . . . the end is near at hand!  Hmmm, should I tell you I've already written what will be the final chapter, just have to write what's in between first?

And you can all thank the US Touring Cast of POTO for my little spurt here . . . I got to see them again tonight!!!!!  Very impromptu decision, and I am just sooooo speechless about that, so it's coming out here!

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****_Stemwinder_**** -----'-----{@**

****

****


	14. Chapter Thirteen: The Return To The Ope...

**Chapter Thirteen:  The Return To The Opera (Down Once More)**

Christine walked, head held high, into the Opera house, and straight to her dressing room, where she finally sighed and nearly collapsed in her dressing table chair.

The past two days of travel had definitely taken their toll, since Erik dared not stop, even for them to sleep the night before.  They made it a bit quicker than they had anticipated.  And yet, she couldn't find it within herself to be upset at that.

She was just so tired.  But she knew she had been seen entering the theatre, which meant she had to attend rehearsal, just as she had discussed with Erik earlier that morning.

"Christine Daae!"  Meg's voice rang sharp from the doorway.  "Do you realize how worried you had us, disappearing like that again!"

Christine bolted from her chair at the first sound of her friend's worried voice.  She walked over to the small girl, took her hands, and led her into the room, and motioned for her to sit on the other chair in the room.  Then, she turned, peered her head out the hallway, and satisfied no one was about, closed the door.

"I do hope you plan to tell me what is going on with you, Christine!  You've been disappearing more and more . . . Maman feared perhaps you'd been frightened away by the ghost!"

Christine chuckled at Meg's terminology for Erik.  "Oh Meg, really, you still believe there is a ghost?"

"Of course there is a ghost!  And you're not getting away from the question at hand so easily, Christine, where have you been?"

Christine's face lit up with all the happiness of the past few days, and she sat before her friend and grasped her hands,  "Oh Meg, the past two weeks have been so . . . so incredible, and it's so hard to explain, but I promised you that when the time came you would be the first to know, remember?"

"Yes, I remember,"  Meg answered quietly.  "You know, your Vicomte has been looking for you again.  He worried when you just up and disappeared, you know."

"Oh Meg, Raoul is not my Vicomte, he never was mine . . . he could have been but in my heart . . . Raoul is an old childhood friend, who at one time though I had once wished it to be more, I've realized in the past months that though he will always hold a place in my heart, it is the place of the brother I was denied."

"Oh Christine,"  Meg sighed sadly.

"Meg, there is no reason for you to find sadness at that, but I do have something to tell you.  That day you asked me what I was holding back, I couldn't answer because I needed to tell Raoul first that we could not be.  He needed to hear it from me first, and though I love you dearly, and know you would never break my confidence if I asked it of you, it was a matter of conscience that he know before you.  You do understand that, don't you Meg?"

"Of course I understand, but I don't quite understand what that has to do with where you've been."

Christine's face brightened again as she thought of the past two weeks . . . the time on the road, their short stay in Boscherville, and the warm welcome they'd had at Degardeau Cottage.  "Meg, I once told you about my teacher."

"Only that he had a voice like an angel, and that you'd never seen him face to face, but you hadn't said a word about him since the first time you disappeared."

"Yes, I know, and it was wrong of me, I agree.  I should have told you everything then and there, but Meg, I have met him, and . . . oh Meg, I can't describe it.  I knew there was something special about him when he started teaching me, but oh, getting to know him, to really know him, as a friend, and as a . . . Meg, there was a spark at first, and you know what they say about sparks, that they turn to fire."

"Oh Christine!"  Meg blushed, totally misunderstanding the meaning behind Christine's words.

Christine paused momentarily, and then the blush rose in her own cheeks as she realized what Meg's assumption was,  "Meg, oh no, not anything like that!  We haven't, I mean, he's been a perfect gentleman, but . . . well, we did kiss, but we never . . . oh, I've made a botch of this, haven't I?"

The blush receded from Meg's face, and she paled slightly,  "I shouldn't have assumed, I know you're not a light woman by any means, Christine.  Please, continue."

"Meg, I had imagined from time to time that he might have fallen in love with me, and at first, the thought frightened me.  I know it was because of the strength of my feelings for him, feelings I didn't understand at first, but Meg, I came to understand.  It was slow at first, this understanding, but when he asked me to marry him . . . I'd known by then that the love I felt for Raoul was a more simplistic kind, the kind you feel for a relation, and that this, what I feel for Erik, it's different."

"Erik?"  Meg questioned.  "I was wondering when you would get around to telling me his name."

"I'm sorry, for going on so.  Yes, his name is Erik, Erik Laramie, and Meg; we're to be married on Christmas day in Rouen.  And . . . oh Meg, I want you to be there."

Meg's face exploded into a smile.  "Oh Christine!"  She jumped up and enveloped her friend in a fierce hug.  "I would love to be there, you know that!  I'll have to ask Maman . . . but where would I stay?  Rouen is more than two days from Paris!"  
  


"That would not be a problem, Meg, Erik's uncle lives in Rouen, and he's invited you and our other guest to stay at his home with him and his wife.  And if you like, if your Maman agrees, you can go with us when we leave, although we did promise to return in two weeks so that we could make sure the final details are ready."

"Then I shall ask Maman if I can go.  Will you be there with me when I ask her in case she should have . . . questions?"

"Of course I will, Meg."

"So when do I get to meet this Erik?"  Meg inquired.

Christine's blush rose, and she wondered just what Meg would say if she knew that Erik was indeed the Opera Ghost.  "I shall talk to him about it tonight."

"Will he be at the performance tonight?"

"He might be,"  Christine answered simply.

Meg studied Christine's face for a long moment, and saw the hidden truth behind her eyes.  "Christine, what is it about this Erik that has made you hide him so?"

Christine sighed, perhaps it would be best to at least give Meg a little warning about the identity of her future husband.  "Meg, Erik is . . . well, he's . . . he's a very sweet man, but he mostly keeps to himself, well, when he's not working, and he's generally a very private person, I'm honestly amazed at times that he's let me into his life as much as he has, but love does funny things to a person you know.  And he . . ."  she trailed off, and her voice dropped an octave,  "He wears . . . he's . . . oh bother.  He wears a mask because his face is scarred, but that really doesn't matter, does it?"

Meg smiled serenely,  "No, all that matters is what's in his heart, and if you can see past whatever horror of his face forces him to don a mask, then who am I to judge?"

Christine returned her smile.  "Just promise me one thing, please, when you meet him, don't mention the mask, please?"

"I shall contrive to be on my best behavior, Christine.  Now, should we go ask Maman now, or wait until after I can say I've met your Erik?"

Christine took in a deep breath,  "I'd say better now.  Perhaps, if she has an objection, I can talk to Erik about it if she'd like to meet him, although . . ."  Christine trailed off, wondering about all the mentions that Meg had made about the Phantom, and about the tentative relationship between Madam Giry and he.  "Yes, he's a private man, but perhaps, I can talk him into such a meeting if your Maman deems it necessary."

"Then let's go find her,"  Meg smiled.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

After the performance that night, Christine slowly made her way back to the dressing room, feeling as if all energy had been sapped out of her body.

The day had been long and grueling, from the moment she had left the room with Meg in search for Madame Giry, through the rehearsals where Monsieur Reyer hounded her again and again, and Carlotta's fit over Christine's "sudden" reappearance.  The managers hadn't helped matters much either, Monsieur Firmin giving her the cold shoulder, and Monsieur Andre giving her dirty looks.  Obviously, Erik had already left a letter in their office.

The confrontation with Madame Giry had been the worst by far, however.  She refused to allow Meg to travel without proper chaperone, just as Erik had feared.  And she did not consider Christine a proper chaperone.

The sigh came long and hard out of her as her hand lay on the handle, and she had been just about to turn it when she heard the familiar voice calling her name from the hallway.

"Christine, wait, please!"  Raoul came panting and breathless.

"Raoul . . ."  Christine trailed off, the awkwardness evident in her stature.

"Christine, I . . . I don't mean to bother you, I was just, well, you disappear for two weeks without so much as a by your leave, no one here seemed to know where you'd gone, except for a note left with Madame Giry stating you had a sick relative you needed to visit, which I know you don't, so would you at least clue me in here?"

"Oh Raoul, I'm fine, surely you can see that!"

Raoul moved a few steps closer, and took her hands in his for a brief moment before letting go.  "Look, just because you don't wish to marry me, I had hoped perhaps we could still be friends.  Or does that go against Erik's wishes?"

"It's not something we've discussed, but Raoul, you must realize that we will always have a shared past, no matter what else changes."

"Yes, but it's not enough, Christine, not for me.  Even if you can never love me, at least allow me to check up on you from time to time as friends do."

Christine lowered her head,  "I doubt that even if I tried to deny you that, you would still be checking after me, now wouldn't you?  I know you were worried, and I'm sorry for that, but I wasn't alone, and I'm fine."

"You told me about the murders, remember?"  Raoul whispered _sotto voce.  "Do you really think that I could forget that, no matter how wrong I may have been for trying to shoot the man in the back?  I'll give him one thing, though, he had courage enough to come to my estate and watch me, even if he never intended on clearing the stage, didn't he?  Christine, he frightens me, that one day, perhaps you may anger him past the point of no return."_

"Erik would never hurt me, I assure you of that,"  Christine asserted.

Raoul merely shook his head,  "I still wonder how things might have been different if I had a better aim."

"Oh Raoul, please, don't!"

"Well, I do.  It bothers you that I may have killed him, but his past does not bother you?  That makes you a hypocrite, Christine, pure and simple!"

"Raoul, there is a big difference.  With a few exceptions, they were mostly self defense.  He can not help the others, either.  I don't claim to understand, but I can forgive him that.  Raoul, you don't know him as I know him.  Beneath the horror, there is a good there, a kind and loving soul, and it's that he shows me.  And yes, there's more, and it's very hard to explain it when I barely understand it myself, but Raoul, it does not change the fact that I love him.  I love him in spite of his past, and because he wants a better future."

Raoul's head dropped, fully chastised.  "Still, be aware, Christine, I'll still find it within myself to make sure that you're all right.  Your father would have wanted it so."  And with that final parting word, he turned and walked away.

Christine stood still for a moment, hesitating at the door to the dressing room.  Staring into space as she often used to.

And then she shook her head, and turned the knob, resolute that the course she had chosen was the right one, even if it was exhausting.

She closed the door behind her, and she knew immediately, that he was waiting for her behind the mirror.  As in the days when she only knew him as her Angel Of Music, she could feel the power in his presence.

Yet she knew he would remain silent for a time, and allow her to change out of her costume before turning the mirror.  So she made her way behind the changing screen, and was soon emerging in the gown she'd worn on their journey.

"Christine,"  his voice floated from behind the mirror.

She smiled as she turned toward the mirror, and the smile widened as the mirror turned on it's pivots and revealed the source of the voice.  Resplendent in his usual dress clothes, mask in place, the power seethed through every pore of his being.

He held out his hand to her, and she moved forward without a word, as she had so many times before, except now she grasped the hand he held to her, and their fingers entwined as they went down once more.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

Soon they were back in the house upon the lake, and it was almost as if they had never left.  The moment they knew they were safe, Erik took Christine in his arms, as if he knew she was barely able to hold herself up any longer.

"It was a mistake for you to stay above today.  You needed rest,"  Erik said gently as he picked her up and carried her to the divan.

"It's nothing, Erik, I'll be fine.  No one ever died from missed sleep, did they?"

Erik sighed in remorse.  He'd known she should have come down with him and had a proper rest.  She hadn't slept the night before, as his fear would not let him stop the carriage long enough for them to rest.  The scene in the forest still plagued him.

"I should have brought you down here with me,"  Erik's voice soothed as he brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face.

"You were there tonight?"

"Yes, of course I was.  And those managers are fools for not having you play Marguerite."

"Erik, I have been gone for two weeks, and before that a week, only back for a few days."

"Still, it's not as if you haven't been practicing your singing while we were away,"  Erik frowned.

Christine's lips turned up at the memory of their voices combining in one during those long hours of travel.  His voice was always perfectly pitched, so even without proper accompaniment they had been able to practice, to continue their lessons.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, Erik.  Besides,"  she yawned,  "To be honest, I don't know if I could have managed it tonight."

Erik's lips twisted into a wry smile,  "I should send you directly to bed."

Christine shook her head before her voice followed her motions,  "Please, not just yet.  I haven't seen you since we arrived, and right now, well, I'm just a bit too comfortable to move."

Erik sighed; he couldn't deny that he was feeling the same.  His arms tightened slightly around her in a protective embrace.  "We'll finish any discussions we need to have tomorrow then,"  he chastised quietly as Christine opened her mouth to speak again.

Seeing the sense in this, Christine nodded her head, and then moved so that her head rested against Erik's shoulder.  It wasn't long before sleep claimed her, and Erik followed not far behind.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

**Author's Notes:  LoL, yes, I am very inspired right now . . . after seeing Phantom for the second time (and in less than a month at that!) it's really helping me with this phic.  :::Sigh::: I actually stayed up until six in the morning afterwards writing this chapter . . . for the inspiration was running so freely with me, and I was hyper to boot, since it was totally unplanned!  That was the best part!**

Glad everyone is still enjoying, and I make a promise to you now, I will have the wedding written and posted no later than Christmas day, my present to all of you who have been so sweet and kind throughout the writing of this story!


	15. Chapter Fourteen: It's An Uphill Climb

**Chapter Fourteen:  It's An Uphill Climb**

It was Erik's form stiffening in surprise which woke Christine the next morning.  She brought her head up from his shoulder to see what it was that had startled him so.

"It's a darn good sight that no one is here to see us like this, you know,"  Erik muttered as she gazed into his eyes past the mask.  And as he watched her, the trust shining through, his voice dropped to an impossible low octave, and he murmured,  "Propriety be damned!"  And then his lips were descending upon hers.

They stayed in that embrace an impossibly long time, before either of them were ready to part, and when they did, the look in either set of eyes mirrored the opposing set.  Both filled with a fierce longing.

Erik's voice was ragged when he finally spoke,  "We can't keep doing this."  With a swift movement, he disentangled himself from Christine's embrace, and was off the divan, finally choosing to lean on the mantelpiece.

Christine sat, confused for a moment at what seemed to be a strong rejection.  She watched as he stood, stiff, unbending, staring at the wall.  Finally, she stood, and walked over to him, and upon reaching him laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Can't keep doing what, Erik?"

Erik turned, and Christine could see the raw yearning in his eyes.  "Can't keep . . . we . . . Christine, I . . . oh –" the curse came quick, and in a language she didn't understand.  Once more, Erik put distance between them.

"Remember that night . . . the night we went to the Bois . . ."  Erik's tongue stumbled over the words, trying to re-assure her that it was not a rejection he was giving her.  "The dress, Christine, the dress.  And how I lost my temper, and cursed your innocence . . . Christine, the time is not right, not yet.  I refuse to . . . not until it can be right.  Oh, how I want to, but . . . and I'm making a damned botch of this!"

Christine's eyes widened as she thought of that night, and how he had told her to bolt her door.  The way he had acted, almost as if he were ill, and then, after she had went into the room . . . and then the gasp came, quick and loud at the realization of his words.

"You're afraid,"  Christine finally said when the shock wore down.  The words fell from her lips quietly, but with no less power.  "You wanted me that night, didn't you?  And I had thought you were merely . . . oh."  And if it was possible, her eyes widened further, and her hand flew to her mouth as she turned around.

"Yes,"  Erik rasped out.  "I am afraid.  I am afraid that I will lose all control, and I don't want to take you like some mindless beast.  Even though it would mean so much more in my mind, it wouldn't in yours.  Because you deserve to be cherished, and savored, and, oh Christine, you deserve music and magic and pleasure.  And beauty, the one thing I am unable to be for you, I can't be beautiful."

"Oh Erik,"  Christine sighed as she went to him once again, although she stopped before she touched him, for worry of provoking him,  "Erik, true beauty is something we find within ourselves.  It's not an outward thing as you were taught to believe."

Erik's head rose, and the eyes behind the mask met Christine's, still full of a fierce longing, but also filled with a shimmer of doubt and hope.  "You . . . you truly believe that?"

"You have taught me that,"  Christine corrected.  "There is beauty inside you.  How could there not be?  _Mon ange de la musique.  You, who have taught me so much already, and at times without even knowing it."_

The doubt dissipated, and was replaced by wonderment.  Then, slow smiles spread across both their faces, and Erik held out his hand to her, and his smile completed as she took it in hers.

"Now,"  Christine continued,  "You said last night any discussions we may need to have would have to wait until morning."

"Yes, I did,"  Erik sighed, knowing immediately that something was still on her mind.

"I spoke to Meg yesterday afternoon,"  Christine went on,  "And she would love to come, but we have a problem."

Erik's sigh gave way to a groan.  Madame Giry, of course, did not wish her daughter to travel without appropriate chaperone.

"Madame Giry said that I alone am not an acceptable chaperone, and she wouldn't think of letting Meg go unless . . ."

Erik's eyes narrowed as he heard the unspoken thought in his mind.  "Absolutely **_not!"  he exclaimed, his voice sounding nearly like  a hiss._**

Christine's eyes closed upon themselves, before she came up with a retort,  "And why not meet her?  I doubt that Madame Giry would realize who you are!"

"I would not take that bet if I were you, my dear,"  Erik replied.   "Madame Giry knows exactly who and what I am.  She knows what I look like, Christine."

Christine paled,  "But . . . how?"

"Before I came to the Opera . . . before there was an Opera house in Paris.  She's . . . she's never spoken of it to any one else, nor will she, but, Christine, she's known for quite a while now."

Christine's lips widened into an 'O', and it was a good while before she'd regained her composure.

"She would never allow Meg to come if she knew just who you were marrying, of that I am fairly certain."

"Yet, if she knows, well, if she were really afraid of you, why would she not have said something to someone?"

Erik sighed, and spread his hands in a gesture of defeat,  "Because of certain things I have done for them, I'm sure."

"Erik, I sincerely doubt that Madame Giry would hate you because of your face.  Meg told me once that you were good to her and her mother.  And if Meg is the kind of person who believes that the face does not make the man, then I doubt it could possibly matter to her mother!"

"And just what makes you think that it doesn't?"  Erik asked, rounding on her.

"Because Meg told me so when I-"  Christine abruptly cut herself off before she finished the thought.

"What?"  Erik asked, as his eyes narrowed.  The sudden stiffness in his posture had become very familiar to her as the stance he took just before the anger would strike.  "What did you do?"

"I . . . I told her about the mask."

"You told her about my face then."  Erik answered simply, quietly, even though Christine could still see his hands balling up into fists.

"Yes,"  Christine whispered,  "and she said that it didn't matter, that it was what's in your heart that counts.  And you know, she's right, and I've told you that before."

Erik's hand unfisted, and his posture relaxed slightly.  Yet he didn't move, and his eyes never wavered as he stalked toward Christine.  His hand slowly came up, and his finger chucked her under the chin, a motion for him to bring her downcast eyes to meet his.  As her eyes met his, they locked, and it seemed as if a conversation went on without words, as facial expressions changed from worry and anger, to understanding and forgiveness.  And finally, Erik sighed in resolution,  "I'll think about it."

As he said that, Christine smiled.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

Later that afternoon, as Christine was at rehearsals, Erik made his way out of the lair and through the streets, careful to keep his muffler up around his face to hide the mask.  And thankfully, no one spared him a second glance, and he managed to make his way to Nadir's flat on the Rue de Rivoli without incident.

A sound knock on the door and it opened to show Darius on the other side.  The manservant stood aside and gestured Erik within, then led him without word to the sitting room where Nadir sat, reading a paper.  He heard the movement in the room, and glanced up, almost doing a double take when he saw Erik standing in the doorway to the room.

"Erik!  Well, what brings you here?"  Nadir asked as he gestured Erik to sit in the chair opposite him.

Erik's hand moved to a pocked concealed within his coat and pulled out a piece of paper, which he handed to Nadir.  He watched as Nadir read the parchment, and then as the smile lit up his friend's face.

"I would be honored, Erik, to attend this wedding."

"Good, then it's settled.  Also, if you wish, Christine and I would like it if you would travel with us to Rouen when we go back to see to the final preparations.  Lodging, of course, has already been taken care of."

"Oh?  You two seem to have thoroughly thought things through then.  Are you going to tell me about your journey?  It seems to have been successful."

"Yes, you could say that, Nadir,"  Erik's lips turned into a half smile.  He recounted the encounters they had in Boscherville, Christine's idea to find Marie, and watched as Nadir's eyes widened when Erik told him of his relation to Gerard.

"What are the chances?"

"Slim, I would say,"  Erik sighed contentedly.  "I admit, it was a bit of a shock, and even more so when he welcomed me with open arms.  Nadir, I don't think I've ever gotten that reaction from anyone on first meeting . . . with Christine, when she first saw my face, she was rightfully terrified.  I'm ashamed to admit I didn't handle that well myself, but I know it was some time before I truly regained her trust.  With Gerard, he has not even asked to see, although I know his wife described it.  I've only known that . . . no, well, I've never really known that, not even with . . ."  Erik trailed off as he thought about the past, the one time he thought he'd had someone who accepted him without question.  And then the betrayal he'd felt when asked to take off the mask.

"Erik?"  Nadir questioned, concern written on his face.

Erik's head snapped around, and his eyes lost that lost look that had taken over them.  "I apologize, I'm afraid I was just thinking.  Nadir, they welcomed us, really welcomed us.  And it . . . it amazed me."

"One of these days, Erik, you will come to understand that even though the human race as a whole may be full of people who are filled with prejudiced, that not everyone is."

"You were.  When you first met me, and do not deny it."

"No, when I first met you, Erik, I was angry at the Shah for sending me away from . . . even then I knew Reza didn't have long, and I resented you for that.  Wrongly, I might add."

Erik nodded, seeing the truth in Nadir's word.  "You know, I can not blame you for that.  In fact, I remember telling you something to that extent a time or two."

"Yes, you did,"  Nadir admitted.  "You are certain that it is not a problem for me to stay at your uncle's then?"

"He insisted, Nadir."

"When do we leave then?"

"Christine and I promised to return a week before the wedding."

"And how will we be getting there?"

"Gerard insisted I take his carriage when we came back to Paris.  No matter how hard I argued against it.  He's got a strong will, that man."

"Perhaps it runs in the family then."

  
Erik chuckled at that statement.  "I almost get the feeling he takes it as a rejection if I don't take his generosity.  Almost as if his giving to me satisfies a need of his own."

"Perhaps it does, Erik.  There are some people who live purely for others.  To be honest, does it not please you to do things for Christine?"

"Of course it pleases me, Daroga.  But it's different, that's . . . that's the love talking."

"There you have it then.  People can be capable of a great deal of love, if you only allow them in, Erik."

"So I am slowly learning, my friend."

"Now then, you only said you needed to be back in Rouen a week before the wedding.  You should know I have never been to Rouen, how long is the journey?"

"Two and a half days,"  Erik answered.  "So we shall leave nine days from now."

"That is what I needed to know.  Is there anything I should bring?"

"Don't worry, just bring yourself and whatever necessities you need,"  Erik replied, and took his pocket watch out.  "As lovely as this afternoon has been, Nadir, I fear I must take my leave."

"Christine,"  Nadir stated knowingly.

"Yes, I promised her I would be at the performance tonight.  Will you be attending?"

"No, not tonight, I have another engagement."

"Pity,"  Erik said, then after a moment's thought, continued,  "but then again, maybe not.  La Carlotta is likely singing tonight.  Unless she had another of her rages, which would be a blessing."

Nadir shook his head, vainly trying to hide his amusement.  "Now, you know no one else goes to the Opera for the music, they go to see and be seen."

"Yes, more's the pity,"  Erik replied somberly.  "They never quite see.  If I don't see you before, I shall see you next week.  I'll send word beforehand of our departure time."

"Alright then, Erik,"  Nadir stood with him, and walked out to the door with him.  Erik gave Nadir a courtly bow at the door, and then promptly disappeared down the Rue de Rivoli.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

****

**Author's Notes:  Ahhh, another chapter!  And our end is coming slowly closer . . . still a few questions, will Meg get to go after all, and will Raoul still play a part in our little Opera?  No, I'm not going to answer just yet!**

angelofnight:  No, unfortunately, Ted was on vacation, but Tim Martin Gleason played our Phantom (he's usually Raoul)  Oh, and I got to go on closeout in Philly (that made the third time in a month I'd seen it, and twice in a matter of three nights)  and oh my!  I have seen Ted, he was my first Phantom in November (check out my bio and you will see my comments!) and he was soooo excellent, he made me cry.  Tim is also an excellent Phantom, the first time he was not as good as he was the second time I saw him.  He does an excellent Angry Erik, though!  I really do recommend if the tour comes your way and Tim is playing the Phantom for a night, to go see it.  I would go again, if I could, to see him.

KR:  LOL!  Well, this song is actually one of my fave Celine songs, and it really does suit Erik well, especially in this setting . . . although, if you want to imagine something different, since angelofnight brought him up, I've been listening to Ted Keegan's Music of the Night while writing it, as well as Celine.  MOTN is one of his strongest points in the show, it really is.

Deirdre:  Hope the next test goes better, and um, yeah, the fop, well, no comment, and I will soon enough answer the question about Meg.  Hope you enjoyed the scene with the Daroga!

Fordgirl:  I know this didn't come up in your review of this story, but I'd read in one of yours that you were returning to South Jersey for the holidays?  Mind if I ask where?  I am also from South Jersey, and you have me curious, especially the way you put it tells me you must love your home as much as I do!  Magical, for sure!  And I'm glad you're enjoying this story so far!

With two more POTO visits now under my belt in this last week, I'm sure my muse will be working overtime!  Actually, even though I haven't written it yet, I know what's going to happen next, so . . . next chapter shortly!  And thanks once again, all of you, and hope you continue to enjoy, you are really all making my day (well, almost as good as getting to see POTO!) with all your beautiful reviews!  Merci beaucoup!

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_Stemwinder_**** -----'-----{@**


	16. Chapter Fifteen: It Will Come To You

***Author's Note*  All the italic thoughts belong to Erik.  Now, back to your regularly scheduled programming!**

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**Chapter Fifteen:  It Will Come To You**

"Oh Christine, isn't it awful?  They've told you, haven't they?"  Meg asked, her voice high pitched as she ran into Christine's dressing room about an hour before curtain.

"Yes,"  Christine answered calmly,  "Monsieur Firmin was just in here, and he told me I am to play Marguerite tonight."

"I can't believe it, though.  La Carlotta, and that freakish accident with the carriage.  Thank goodness she's okay, though.  I mean, I may not like the woman, she's a mean bully, but still, she doesn't deserve to be hurt, does she?"

"No, Meg, of course she doesn't, no one does.  And you know, I know she's mean, but perhaps it is merely because she was not cared for as a child, and that would mean she's deserving of our pity, you know."

Meg chuckled,  "La Carlotta, a child?  I can't imagine!"

Christine laughed along with Meg,  "You're right, it does seem a bit contrived, doesn't it."  As the laughter subsided, Christine sighed.

"Are you ready for this then, Christine?"

"Ready?  I believe so, it's not like I've never sang a lead role before, now is it?  Am I nervous?  Of course, I'm always nervous when I go onstage, you know that."

Meg ran up to her friend, and enveloped her in a hug,  "You'll do fine, and besides, since I know it was your teacher you were with when you went away, I know you were likely practicing, weren't you?"

"Yes,"  Christine answered,  "We did a lot of singing while we were away."

"Speaking of your mysterious beau, did you talk with him?"

Once again, Christine sighed,  "Yes, I did, and he was vehement at first about it, but he finally agreed to think on it.  He's worried, Meg, that your Maman will still say you can not come."

"Oh, I'm sure if he's as wonderful as you say he is, Maman will allow it.  I'm certain."

No sooner were the words out of Meg's mouth then the sound of a cane being struck to the ground outside of the door floated through the room.  The two girls jumped back, and the door opened to reveal Madame Giry.

Meg and Christine attempted small smiles, but both lost the battle at the stern look from the ballet mistress.

"You know, Meg, whenever you disappear, I always know to find you right here!"

"Maman, I just wanted to wish Christine luck tonight before curtain!"

Giry's face remained stern for a moment, then finally softened.  Both girls finally breathed when the ballet mistress nodded.  "Very well, then, but you need to get ready as well, Meg, you have to warm up, and so does Christine.  And you need to get into your costume still."

"Yes, Maman."

"I shall expect to see you in the dressing room in five minutes,"  Giry said, a bit more gently than her normal tone, and she turned to the door.  Her hand was on the knob when she paused, and turned back to look on the girls once more.  "Oh, and Christine . . ."

"Yes Madame Giry?"

"Good luck tonight."

Christine smiled, and replied with the only words that would come to her,  "Thank you Madame Giry."

Giry nodded, and then opened the door.

Christine turned to Meg, and chided,  "See, she's not as harsh as we always make her out to be!"

"**_You don't have to live with her!"  Meg countered._**

"Hmmm, true, I don't."

"You know, though,"  Meg continued, changing the subject,  "You can't hide Erik forever, he's going to have to meet me eventually, if I am to be at the wedding."

"Yes, he knows that,"  Christine sighed.  "It's . . . it's difficult for him, though, to trust people.  He's had a hard time of it through his whole life.  There is so much he is either unwilling or unable to share with me about his past, and I know that it's because it's just too painful.  People are not always so kind to him, and it took a long time for us . . . for him to really trust me, even though he loves me.  He's so frightened sometimes, and yet, he's one of the strongest people I know.  I know that doesn't sound possible, or even plausible, but perhaps you'll understand when you meet him."

"If he even allows me to get to know him, Christine.  He does sound wonderful, though."

"Oh, he is.  Oh Meg, I can't wait until Christmas!"

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

As the final scene of Faust closed, Erik made his way stealthily through secret panel in the marble column in box five, and down below to one of the secret passages, hoping to make it to Christine's room before she arrived.  And of course, as she had sung the lead that night, he knew she was likely to be besieged by friends and admirers backstage.  He only hoped that boy would not make another appearance!

Finally, he was in place behind the mirror, and just in time, for then Meg and Christine made their way into the dressing room.

"Oh Christine, you were perfect!"

_'My thoughts exactly,'  Erik thought from behind the mirror._

Christine blushed at the praise, and set the bouquet of roses into the vase which took up a place of prominence on the small mantle.  "Oh Meg, I would hardly say perfect!"

_'No, Christine, I can think of a few other words.  Excellent, marvelous, spectacular.'_

"Christine, you still doubt yourself!"

"No, I know I can do it now, I know it's not like it was, but I also know that I can be better."

_'Better?  Ahh, so there is still some ambition left there!'_

Meg chuckled,  "So, back to the discussion we were having before, do you think he'll make a decision soon on if he will meet with Maman or not?"

Christine rolled her eyes,  "Oh Meg, as soon as he tells me, you will of course be the first to know."

"You know I can not wait to meet him, whatever he decides.  I want to meet the man who has put such a glow back into your eyes.  You know, Christine, I don't think I've ever seen you as happy as you have been the past few days since you returned."

"Hmmm, perhaps it is because I am happy.  Oh Meg, Christmas seems so close and yet so far!"

Meg smiled slyly,  "I'll bet it does!"

"I really don't know how to describe this.  I can only hope one day, you meet someone who can make you feel this way."

"My day will come, Christine, but I am in no hurry, you know that."

"Yes, I know, you want to dance and dance and dance until-"

Meg chorused with Christine to finish the phrase, but interchanging the you with I,  "Until you can't dance any more!"

Meg smiled,  "You know me too well, Christine Daae!"

"As many hours as we used to sit together, Meg Giry, how could I not?  You truly are my best friend, you know that, don't you?"

"Oh Christine, you're going to make me cry!"

Both girls laughed as a knock sounded on the door.  Christine walked over to the door and opened it to reveal Raoul, returned again.

"I didn't mean to bother you, Christine, I didn't realize you had company until I knocked."

Christine dropped her head for a moment, then looked back up into his eyes.  "Hello, Raoul."

_'Damn him!  Damn damn damn!  Can't the boy just leave her alone!'_

"I just wanted to tell you that you were wonderful tonight, that's all.  And to apologize for the way I acted last night.  It was wrong of me.  Christine, I just don't want to lose your friendship, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Oh Raoul, I'm not going to get hurt.  You must believe I know what I am doing."

"I know.  You've grown up, Christine.  And I suppose I have to accept that the dream I had for so long can just never be, but I still want to be your friend.  Please tell me that I can at least have your friendship."

"Raoul, I've known you since I was a little girl.  Nothing is ever going to change that, you should know that."

"I'm still going to look in on you from time to time."

"I wouldn't doubt you would."

Raoul smiled, reached for her hand, and gave it a small squeeze, then leaned over and left a chaste kiss on her cheek.  "Then I shall leave you to your company, then.  _Au revior, mon ami."_

"_Au revior, Raoul,"  Christine echoed as Raoul turned and made his way down the hall.  As soon as he was out of sight, Christine turned around to face Meg._

Meg just stood there, smiling for a moment.

Christine rolled her eyes once more at the look.

"Well, can't say he's not determined,"  Meg finally broke the silence.  "And should I dare to ask what he means by he's afraid of you getting hurt?"

Christine sighed as her mind raced to come up with a suitable response.  She didn't dare tell Meg what she had told Raoul, about Erik's past.  "He's just worried, he seems to believe I'm rushing into this, but really, I'm not.  I've loved Erik for quite some time, even before I was ready to admit it was true."

Meg nodded in understanding,  "I trust that you know what you're doing, Christine.  And after all, you know what they say, love conquers all.  And now, I must get out of this costume.  Will you be at rehearsal tomorrow?"

"Yes, I'll be there."

"I'll see you tomorrow then!"  Meg smiled as she made her way out the door.

Christine smiled to herself, and then groaned softly.  She'd known the minute she'd entered the room that he was waiting behind the mirror, she'd sensed his anger when Raoul turned up on the other side of the door.  But she could tell he was holding it in now, so that she may get changed.  So over to the dressing screen she went, and a few moments later, she heard his voice on the other side of the mirror.

"She certainly is an inquisitive girl, isn't she?"

Christine sighed once more, knowing that the worst was still to come.  "Curious, of course, but I've said so little about you, and she's always wondered."

"I should be angry, you know."

"Yes, I know, but Erik, you know that there is nothing between Raoul and I."

She could hear Erik's sigh of resignation behind the mirror.  "I don't suppose it would do me any good to forbid you to see him, now would it?"

Christine's eyes widened.  This she hadn't expected.  She'd almost been getting used to his rages over Raoul.  "Raoul will always be a friend, Erik.  I can not forget that he is a part of my past.  A part of my childhood."

She heard another sigh, and felt relief when she saw the panel slide and reveal the figure, still in his black dress clothes and the white mask in place.  He stepped into the dressing room and walked up to face her, and both were aware that it was truly the first time they faced each other in a domain that was Christine's.  Most of their time had been spent at the house on the lake, and Christine could barely remember the last time she had been at her flat.

"You knew then, that I was there the whole time?"

"I always know when you are behind the mirror, Erik.  Ever since the first time you sang to me, I always knew when you were there."

"Even when?"

"Yes, although at first I thought I was feeling a spirit around me.  Now I know . . ."

He took her hand gently in his.  She watched as his eyes closed, and his breathing evened out.  "I am sorry for my anger."

Christine smiled, but remained silent.

Erik could see in the smile that he was forgiven, and brought her hand up to his mouth.  Christine stepped into his arms as her hand lowered, and they stood that way for a few moments before the opening of the dressing room door made them jump apart.

Christine turned quickly to see who was there, and her gasp of surprise flew out the same time a similar gasp came from Meg.  Christine watched in silent horror as Meg's eyes widened, and a sort of recognition came over her face.  Christine could see as Meg's eyes noted the still open mirror, and the man in the room.

Another startled gasp came from Meg, and she had the good sense to come into the room and close the door.

Erik released his hold on Christine, and stood stock still as Christine walked over to Meg and tried to repair the damage.

"Meg, I'd like you to meet Erik."

Erik and Meg both stood shock still, neither of them sure of the next step.  Finally, it was Meg who recovered her surprise, and walked forward slowly, giving a small curtsy when she was just before him.  "A pleasure, Monsieur."

Erik stayed stiff for a moment, before the mannerisms that had been drummed into him from earliest childhood took over,  "The pleasure is mine,"  her replied as he made a sweeping bow.

Meg's hand flew to her chest, and the three people in the room stood in a tense silence, and Meg couldn't help but stare at the man before her.

Erik stood silent as he watched Meg's unabashed scrutiny.  He knew she knew about his face, but just what else did she know?

Christine, meanwhile, felt as if the three of them were on a train that was headed for a wall, and fast.  She didn't know how else to break the ice between them.

Finally, Meg spoke again,  "Christine tells me that it is you who have been training her voice."

Erik's eyes widened behind the mask, but he showed no other form of emotion as he answered,  "Yes, and she is a wonderful pupil."

Meg nodded, her eyes once more coming to rest on the open mirror.  Erik watched as they did, still uncomfortable at the silence that had once again settled upon them.

And once more, it was Meg who broke the silence as she looked Erik right in the eyes,  "You have nothing to fear from my mother and I, you know.  Even for all the tales they tell in the ballet salon, I always knew better.  Maman told me many times what you've done for us, you know."

Erik's eyes now narrowed slightly,  "I'm afraid I misunderstand."

Meg sighed, realizing that he wasn't going to give an inch.  She gestured toward the open mirror,  "You know, we always wondered how Christine managed to leave the Opera without being seen.  The Vicomte once told someone that he'd been in the room when she disappeared, and yet he never saw her leave the room.  Maman told me that evening when I asked that it must be the ghost, but that was all she would say.  I knew she never believed that he was really a ghost, even if she would not tell me so.  But you need not worry, I have never betrayed anything Christine has ever told me in confidence, and I won't betray this, either."

Erik took his eyes off Meg's determined face, and looked toward Christine in silent question.  He watched as she shook her head in the negative, and satisfied, he turned back to Meg.  The three figures didn't move, and no one spoke for a long time as everyone adjusted to the obvious change that had taken place.  And finally, it was Erik who whispered,  "Thank you for your discretion, Mademoiselle."

Meg simply smiled up at Erik, and the tension in the room melted away as she stepped away from him and turned to Christine.  She calmly took Christine's hands in hers and squeezed, and the two girls smiled at each other.

"I meant it when I said I trusted you to know what you were doing, Christine.  I hope, that now that I know, you won't hide so much from me?"

"No, Meg, I won't."

Meg nodded her acceptance, and let go of Christine's hands.  Then she was out the door, and Erik and Christine were alone once more.  The silence reigned for a few moments longer, and then Erik held out his hand to Christine, and she went to him without a word and they disappeared through the mirror together.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

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	17. Chapter Sixteen: A Simple Answer

**Chapter Sixteen:  A Simple Answer**

Through the next two days, a routine was established.  By day, Christine would go above and rehearse with the company, and by night she remained in the house by the lake.  And during those two days, they had many discussions, although one could almost call them arguments, over Erik meeting Madame Giry.

It was on the third day that Christine finally had enough of Erik's dodging her.  Between the discussion and the fact that Erik was keeping his distance from her more and more, Christine was starting to feel a bit edgy.  Deep down she understood why Erik was being so careful at times not to touch her, and why he was making sure she actually went to bed in her room at night, but she missed the feeling of awakening in his arms.  And it made her crave the day when he would stop pushing her away, as she knew it would end after they were married.

But now, after Erik's latest dodge, the ice was about to break.

Christine purposely followed Erik as he went into his laboratory,  "Erik, we are running out of time here.  We leave in five days, right?  If you don't meet Madame Giry soon, Meg will not be able to come to the wedding, and she really is the only one I asked to be allowed to bring."

"Yes, I understand, but Christine, I don't know if Madame Giry will consent even if she does meet me!"

"How can she not?  You heard what Meg told you, her mother does not think you are some kind of monster.  I don't either, and neither does Meg, so why keep dodging the issue.  If you meet her, at least we will know one way or the other!"

Erik spun, the anger flashing in his eyes.  Christine so rarely raised her voice to him, and on such a touchy subject as this he was finally close to snapping.  "Did it ever occur to you,"  he started, his voice menacing enough to make Christine take a step back,  "that perhaps the reason I've been putting it off is I do not want you hurt when Meg is denied anyway?  Don't you realize by now that I would do just about anything to keep you from being hurt?  Or has that boy's worries finally gotten to you?"

"Don't bring Raoul into this Erik,"  Christine replied, her lip trembling slightly,  "he has nothing to do with it.  This is about your fear of meeting Madame Giry.  I don't fear you.  If I did, do you think I would be here, standing up to you?  Or did you miss the part the other night where I told Raoul that I knew you would never hurt me?"

"You really think I am afraid?"  Erik asked, turning away from Christine.

"Yes, I do.  I know you fear things just like the rest of us.  That mask you still insist on wearing even though I've told you that I don't need it here does not protect you from hurt.  It merely shuts people out, Erik."

"This is not about the mask, either, Christine."

"No, it's not.  It's about fear.  It's about your fear to open up to people."

"Think long about it, Christine.  You do not want to open up that subject."

"And why not?  Erik, not everyone is going to reject you!"

Erik spun back around, and slowly stalked his way to Christine.  She stood stock still, her own anger still coursing through her with no thoughts of being afraid at the pose he took when he was finally right next to her.  It was a pose she'd seen often, the stiffness that usually proceeded his angriest rages.

"My whole life, Christine,"  he began, the malice still in his voice as he remained still in an attempt to keep his anger in check,  "my whole life, I think I can count on one hand the number of people who really and truly accepted me for who I am without prejudice.  And the number of people who did that on first meeting is even smaller.  The unfortunate side effect, of course, is that curiosity generally makes them betray me in the end.  And then they ask to see.  The few people who have accepted me upon sight of this face is the smallest number.  Even you, it took time to accept, accept the truth of what I am, and you can not deny that."

"No, I can't deny it Erik, any more than I can turn back time and change my first reaction.  I was still very much a child then, Erik.  I know I am still very much a child now in some ways, but I'm trying to be what you need.  Because you are what I need.  But you continue to judge the world based on a portion, how do you know who is going to accept if you do not give them the chance.  You said yourself that Madame Giry has seen your face.  She has not turned you in.  She knows you are here.  Why not give her a chance?"

Erik stared silently, and he knew she had just played the one hand that he could not logically argue against.  The stare lasted for several tense moments before Erik's hands relaxed from the fists they had balled into in the heat of the argument, and his eyes softened with them.  "Very well, I will meet her."

Christine sighed in relief, and she smiled in victory.  "When?"

"Your dressing room, after tonight's performance.  I'll be waiting inside."

"Then you won't be in box five?"

"Oh, I'll be watching, I'll just leave shortly before the end so that I make it there before you,"  Erik assured her.

Christine nodded her agreement.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

Meg, of course, had been ecstatic when she heard that Erik finally agreed.  Christine once again sang as Marguerite since Carlotta was still recovering, and as they went into the final scene, Christine chanced a glance at box five, and saw Erik's movement toward the pillar.

After the performance, Meg rushed up to Christine and gave her a rather tight hug.  "Maman is coming, do you think he made it back there?"

"Yes, he left a bit before the end so that he would be there,"  Christine answered.

"But how do you know?"

"I saw him, briefly enough to see him moving,"  Christine responded as she heard the cane hitting the floor a bit behind them.

"You!"  Giry yelled to the dancers.  "A disgrace!  I can tell you have not been putting effort into your practicing.  Janelle, you ran right into Megan, and Chloe, your pirouettes tonight were atrocious!  Go change out of your costumes and get into your practice clothes, for we practice in fifteen minutes!"

A groan went up from the group of dancers, and they left in a huddle as Giry made her way to the two girls standing in the middle of the right of way.

"Well, are the two of you ready?"

"Yes, Maman,"  Meg replied, and the three made their way to Christine's dressing room.

"I must say, Christine, this beau of yours keeps odd habits, does he not?  Waiting almost four days to agree to meet me after you ask if my daughter can accompany the two of you on a journey of that length."

"I apologize for that, Madame Giry, it's just he's a bit nervous about meeting your standards, is all."

"Well, we shall see about this,"  Giry mumbled as they reached the door, and Christine opened it and stepped in, the first thing she saw was Erik sitting on the small divan.  Christine stood aside and allowed Madame Giry and Meg in, then closed the door behind them.

Erik stood the moment the three women entered the room, and other than the short gasp from Madame Giry, the room was silent.

"Madame Giry, my fiancé Erik Laramie.  Erik, Madame Giry, Meg's mother."

"A pleasure to meet you, Madame, Christine has told me a great deal about you,"  Erik bowed elegantly.

Madame Giry nodded to Erik, and then spared a glance to her daughter.  Meg shrugged helplessly, and Giry turned back to the man before her.  "And why should I trust you with my daughter, Monsieur Laramie?"

Erik's eyes widened behind the mask as if he were startled by the impertinence of the question.  "Madame Giry, I assure you I have no ill intentions toward your daughter.  Christine wishes her to be at our wedding, and I merely wish Christine to be happy.  Having a friend at our wedding seems such a small request, and if it is my power, I want her to have that."

Giry scrutinized the masked face before her before her next question,  "You live near the Opera then?"

Erik's hand twitched, yet his face remained placid,  "Yes, fairly close you may say, although I prefer to be here.  The company has, at times, put on some beautiful pieces, and of course, with the right singers, they become even more so.  I've almost begun to think of the Opera as my second home."

"Indeed,"  Giry replied simply.  They stood watching each other, and the only detectable movement was that of a small twitch of Erik's hand.  Finally, Giry nodded, and then she turned and walked the few steps to stand before the two girls.

"I understand why you were both so nervous, and that is all I am going to say on that subject, since no more should need to be said."  She glanced quickly back at Erik, then returned her attention to the girls.  "Meg, tomorrow is Saturday, which means late rehearsal, so we shall go and get you a new dress for the wedding."

Both girls burst into smiles, and Meg launched herself at her mother and threw her arms around the older woman,  "Oh thank you Maman, thank you thank you thank you!"

Madame Giry returned her daughter's embrace briefly, before backing up,  "Now, you need to change out of your costume, and get into your rehearsal clothes.  Coming here with me is no excuse for you missing practice.  I'll be along in a minute."

"Yes Maman,"  Meg returned, and then with a quick squeeze of Christine's hand on her way, she saw herself out.

Once Meg was out of the room and the door closed once more, Madame Giry looked between the two other people in the room.  After a moment, she made her way back to stand before Erik once more.  "I will only say one thing, and I'm sure it will be sufficient.  Take care of my daughter, and Christine, for if anything happens to them, you can be sure I will tell what I know.  Keep them safe, and your secret remains so, Monsieur."

Erik watched her for a moment, then nodded his head,  "Of course, Madame Giry."

The two stared at each other for a moment longer, and then Madame Giry moved to stand before Christine.  Her stony gaze made Christine want to squirm, but she managed to stay still until Giry spoke.

"You know what you are getting into, I take it?"

"Yes, Madame Giry,"  Christine answered.

"And it does not matter?"

"No, it does not.  Love does not ask for conditions before being born in our hearts."

Giry nodded, and glanced once more between the two.  Facing Christine once more, she whispered,  "No matter what he may have done in the past, no matter some of the trouble he may have caused, he still does have a good heart.  I think you will be good for him, my dear."  And with that, she turned away from the couple and made her way out of the room.

As soon as they were alone, Christine moved into Erik's waiting embrace.

"You were right,"  he said.

Even though he could not see her face, Christine smiled.  "Perhaps then you'll learn to listen to me more often?"

She lifted her head from his shoulder so he could see the playful smile on her face.  An answering smile came across his lips,  "Perhaps I might."

"See that you do, _mon__ amour.  Now that we got that obstacle out of the way, there is only one more thing."_

"And what is that, my dear?"

"The fact that Carlotta has a broken leg.  The managers asked me this afternoon if I could continue to play Marguerite until she returns."

Erik swore softly under his breath,  "A broken leg can take months to heal!  And we are due back in Rouen in a week, it's not possible.  What did you tell them?"

"I asked them the schedule, and Monsieur Firmin said he would have it for me tomorrow."

"Then we don't know if there will be a break anytime soon?"

"I doubt it, we just had a resting period, remember?"

"That was a few months ago, wasn't it?"

"Two a year for the Opera house, and you know they sell better at Christmas."

"Yes, and those two may not have a dab of musical sense between them, but they do know money,"  Erik raged, and turned from Christine.

"Erik, please, I have no intentions of staying here through Christmas.  When Monsieur Firmin shows me the schedule tomorrow, I shall just tell him I can not do it."

"And that is suicide to your career!"

"Damn the bloody consequences, Erik!  There is nothing that is going to keep me from that church."

Erik spun around at the words he was unaccustomed to hearing from her.  His eyes widened in shock as he realized he hadn't known she even knew those words.  And then he chuckled and drew her back into his arms.

"What's so funny, Erik?"  Christine asked as he placed a feather-light kiss on her forehead.

"You know, I find I rather enjoy our arguments."

Christine looked at him as if he were speaking Greek.  "Please, explain that."

"You're learning to stand up to me.  I find I like that."

"Oh,"  Christine replied, the confusion still lingering in her voice.

Erik chuckled again as he placed another tender kiss on her forehead.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

**Author's Notes:  Yes, I KNOW I promised that wedding Chapter for Christmas, and you can blame it all on my estupida computer!  I was writing and writing and writing, and . . . um . . . forgot to save (Yikes!) and lost about 20 pages total, which was the next few chapters, and the wedding.  So you'll have to bear with me, I'm hoping now to have it by New Years.**

And you would have had this chapter yesterday, but ff.net did NOT want to co-operate with me!

Fordgirl:  At first, I wasn't sure, but I looked your hometown up, and it's not all that far from here, so now I had to really laugh that I may very well have been there as a child!  My parents and I used to go to the shore points all the time when I was little.

Claire Starling:  No, I haven't seen Dangerous Liaisons, but that quote is in Kay, page 361 Erik mentions that very few people go to the opera for the quality of the music, they go to see and be seen.  I am glad that you're enjoying the story, though!  

Everyone else:  Hope you like this newest chapter, and more is coming very soon!

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****_Stemwinder_**** -----'-----{@**

****


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Don't Surrender, Bec...

**Chapter Seventeen:  Don't Surrender, Because You Can Win**

"Are you sure that writing them a note is going to work?"  Christine asked the next morning as they prepared to journey back above.

"It has never failed before, now has it?"

"And you mean to tell them the truth?"

"Well, as much of it as is best.  Merely that you are about to marry, and that you need time off."

"And when they ask me who?  What am I supposed to tell them then?  Meg and Madame Giry are the only ones in the city other than Nadir who know that we are getting married.  Other than Raoul, they are the only ones who even know that I know you!"

Erik's eyes rose to the ceiling behind the mask.  "Have you got a better idea?  You certainly can't tell them you have a sick relation, you just used that when we left for Boscherville.  And I know that you are by no means ready to quit the Opera, you enjoy it too much.  You certainly can't tell them you're marrying the ghost."

"Well, they don't know your name, do they?"

"No, of course not!"

"Well then.  I suppose that shall have to be my answer."

"And when they ask how you met me?"

"That would be prying into a lady's affairs, Erik."

"Still?"  Erik questioned, now enjoying the role of devil's advocate.  
  


"Erik, you are impossible!"

They both laughed, and then Erik took Christine's hand.  As their eyes met, the laughter stopped, and both expressions grew serious.

They stood that way for a moment, neither wanting the moment to end, and then it did when Erik slowly released Christine's hand.  But they both knew what had happened, both had seen the flash of a promise in the other's eyes.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

Richard Firmin stalked out of the office, his annoyance obvious by his stilted gait as he went in search of his partner.

He finally found Gilles Andre in the auditorium, watching as the repetiteur practiced with members of the chorus.  He made his way into the row behind the entranced man, and tapped him on the shoulder.

Gilles jumped out of his seat, turned to see his partner, and the reprimand was quick from his lips,  "Richard, **_why must you sneak up on me like that?"_**

"We need to talk, Gilles,"  Firmin answered.  "I would suggest you come with me to the office."

"Why do I **_not like the sound of this?"  Andre asked ruefully as he stood and followed Firmin to the office.  Once inside, Firmin handed Andre a note, which Andre promptly read._**

  
"**_Damn!"  Andre shouted as he slammed the parchment onto the desk.  "What a bloody impertinence, and just how the devil would a ghost know all this?"_**

"He does seem to know most things that happen here, we've already seen that Gilles,"  Firmin answered, the anxiety on his own face mirroring that of his partner.

"Just when do we expect Mademoiselle Daae here today?"

"In about an hour or so, I believe.  She asked me yesterday about the schedule, although you would think she would know she couldn't do it if she knew she was to be married that week.  And just why we were not informed of that fact, you would think the Vicomte would tell us!"

"He's young, in love, although I did hear them have an argument the other day, and his interest in the girl has been no secret, unless we're mistaken about the identity of Mademoiselle Daae's future husband.  Do you really believe the rumors that the Vicomte proposed to Daae?"

"He hasn't denied it, has he Gilles?"

"No, indeed he hasn't and we all know the scandal it's caused in the social circles, even for being a rumor.  When was the last time you talked to the young man, Richard?"

"A few days ago I believe,"  Firmin answered, calming now.  "We still have a problem.  If this note is to be believed, we are temporarily loosing our second diva, and our leader of the corps as well."

"I am well aware of that fact, Richard.  Although I am sure Madame Giry will manage to find someone to replace her daughter for a time, what are we to do?  Ever since Mademoiselle what's-her-face left us, all we have had are La Carlotta and Mademoiselle Daae.  La Carlotta will be out for quite some time, if she returns at all.  They haven't said how long it will take that leg to heal, and for all we know, she may just not be up to it again."

"So should we allow her to leave or not, Gilles?  Am I to take it you haven't a clue?"

"I thought I left that end to you, my dear fellow."

"Gilles, you at least know a top C when you hear it, remember?  We've had this conversation before, when that **_damn lunatic first brought Mademoiselle Daae to our attention."_**

Gilles placed his finger to his chin in an attempt to concentrate.  "We could well tell her that if she leaves now her career is over you know."

"And what good will that do us?  A woman in love, or even in lust, is still not going to give up her wedding day, now is she?  You yourself said that if La Carlotta had not protested as much as she did earlier, then you would have had me promote Daae a bit sooner than we did."

"Yes, I know that.  Daae has a decent enough voice, and a good voice is so hard to come by.    It still does not answer our singular problem here, and then we have the possibility that she may not wish to perform after her marriage.  Perhaps we should just have a meeting with Mademoiselle Daae when she arrives, and see where to go from there, as we're merely grasping at what ifs right now, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are,"  Firmin sighed at last.  He pulled a watch from his pocket, and continued,  "And she should be here in about half an hour.  The question is, we do still need an additional understudy now, don't we?"

"Too bad our lunatic didn't give us any ideas there, he at least seems to know music,"  Andre frowned.  "Ah well, until she comes then, I shall be watching the chorus, perhaps the answer is there."

"Very well then,"  Firmin answered as Andre made his way back out the door and down towards the auditorium.

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

Christine made her way to the manager's office at the appointed time with a feeling of trepidation.  She knew full and well that Erik had already left his little note for the managers, and the thought did little to quell her nerves.

She knocked lightly on the door, and nearly jumped at Firmin's booming voice calling her in from the other side of the door.  She turned the knob and entered.

Messieurs Andre and Firmin were both within the office, and Andre gestured her into a waiting seat, and then the two managers took up chairs across from her.

"Mademoiselle, we received a rather odd note this afternoon, and were wondering if you could clear up a little matter for us,"  Firmin began without preamble.

Christine cocked her eyebrow in surprise, although her voice still squeaked when she answered,  "Monsieur?"

"You neglected to mention to me yesterday when I spoke with you about taking on La Carlotta's role in her absence that you are planning a wedding."

Christine nodded as the blush rose on her cheeks.  "Yes, because I wasn't completely certain of the schedule, and did not want to turn the offer down before I could be sure I could not do it."

"Then the rumor is true?"  Andre cut in.  "You are to be marrying the Vicomte?"

Christine sighed.  She certainly knew that allowing them to think that would make the rest of this meeting go much easier, and yet she knew it was a farce that would not hold up to examination.  "No, I am not marrying the Vicomte.  We are merely childhood friends, nothing more."

Now it was Firmin's turn to raise an eyebrow,  "Then may I ask, Mademoiselle . . ."

"Who I am marrying?  A very great man, Monsieur, although not a well known one.  His name is Monsieur Laramie."

"Laramie?"  Andre repeated, trying to come up with a face to go with the name, and having no luck, turned back to the woman before him.  "Ah well, that does not matter so much, does it.  Although it does present us with a problem, Mademoiselle, in that you are the understudy for La Carlotta, and with her absent due to her injury, I am not certain we can permit you this leave of absence."

Christine sighed, the worry written on her face.  Erik's words to her this morning rang through her mind.

~~~~~

_"Whatever you do, you can not show them weakness, they will pounce on it in an instant.  They are, after all, not much more than greedy, money hungry vultures.  And surely, if you can stand up to me, they will be an easy foe."_

~~~~~

Then she steeled herself up for the next volley,  "I am sorry, Messieurs, that my plans cause such a problem, but I am afraid they are unbreakable."

"May I ask why you did not inform us of this sooner?"

Again, Christine sighed, and she spread her hands in supplication,  "Because even though my fiancé has been courting me for quite some time, there were certain complications, and it took a time for us to decide to marry, and once we had, we both knew we did not want to wait very long.  And when he suggested last week that we marry at Christmas, the idea was too romantic for me to resist it."

The two managers glanced between each other and nodded, both apparently satisfied with her explanation.

"We still do have a rather unique problem, and that is that we have no one on hand to replace you,"  Firmin explained.  "This really is leaving us in quite a bind.  You're absolutely certain there is no way we can convince you to stay in Paris and perform at least through Christmas Eve?"

"I'm afraid not, you see, my fiancé's family is from Rouen, and we plan to be married in his family's church.  Rouen is a good distance from here, and we still have one or two details to attend to before the ceremony, which can only be taken care of in Rouen."

Firmin grimaced as he realized his last trump card was dealt out.  He glanced toward Andre, and the younger man shrugged his shoulders.  The both looked back toward Christine, both scrutinizing the young woman before them for several moments before turning their glances back to each other.

It was Andre who broke the silence,  "So Richard, do you have any other suggestions?"

"Afraid not Gilles, except . . ."  Firmin turned back toward Christine.  "I'm sure, Mademoiselle, you've heard the rumors of the Opera Ghost."

Christine's heart raced, yet her face showed no change,  "Yes, of course I have, one can not perform in the Corps de Ballet as I did and **_not hear of him.  Silly superstition though, if you ask me."_**

The managers looked between each other once more, and Gilles once again shrugged his shoulders.  Back to Christine they turned their attention,  "Well, Mademoiselle, we have a case of an extortionist on our hands, who claims to be our ghost.  He seems to have a particular interest in you, as it was he that informed us that you could sing La Carlotta's roles some months ago, and it was he who told us of your upcoming nuptials.  Would you care to explain that?"

Christine paled slightly, albeit not noticeably,  "I wouldn't know how, Messieurs.  I don't believe in ghosts, and I would not know how to begin pretending to be one either."

"Your fiancé, perhaps then?"

"Hardly,"  Christine answered, her defenses rising.

"Mind telling us what this man does for a living, Mademoiselle Daae?"

Christine paled just a bit further, before her mind hit upon something that could not be traced back to the Opera Ghost.  "He is an inventor, Messieurs."

Andre frowned as he scrutinized the woman before him again, trying to detect any falsehoods.  "And just what does he invent?"

"All sorts of things, things I hardly understand, Messieurs.  Gadgets and gizmos to me, they are quite beyond my grasp."

The two men spared another glance to each other, and once more, Andre shrugged.  Both knew that this was getting them no where fast.

"I apologize for my partner's impertinence, Mademoiselle,"  Firmin finally broke the chains of the silence that had settled the room.  "I suppose our next question should be, how long can we expect you to be gone this time?"

Christine felt the relief run through her, yet she remained impervious in her facial expressions,  "We had discussed a honeymoon trip, and had decided on a two week tour, Messieurs."

"Then we should anticipate your return in the second week of January?"

"Yes, that is correct,"  Christine replied.

Firmin stood while Andre stared straight ahead, his eyes never leaving Christine.  Christine as well, finally stood, taking her exit cue, and before she had fully opened the door, Firmin stopped her.

"After your return, then, can we count on you to take over until La Carlotta's return?"

"Yes, of course, Monsieur Firmin,"  Christine answered, and Firmin nodded her out.

As soon as the door closed behind Christine, Andre rose from his seat, and pointed a finger at his partner,  "You mark my words, Richard, that girl knows something!"

"I would not doubt that, Gilles, but we can not prove it any more than we can prove there really is a ghost, now can we?"

Gilles hung his head for a moment before muttering,  "No, we can't."

"Well then, I would suggest you find someone in that wretched chorus to take her place then, hadn't you?  After all, we only have her for a few more days."

"Yes, yes, I know.  Damnable business this is!"  Andre shouted as he skulked out the door.

****

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

Raoul watched as Monsieur Andre burst through the door to the manager's office, and stared in bewildered wonderment as the man skulked his way down the narrow hallway toward the auditorium.  Finally though, he got over his temporary paralysis and continued to make his way down the hallway to the same office Andre had just burst forth from.

Inside he found Monsieur Firmin, sitting at the desk as he poured over paperwork.  He rapped on the doorframe, then entered without preamble.

Firmin glanced up from his papers, and a smile lighted his face as he saw his patron,  "Monsieur le Vicomte!  Do come in, and to what do I owe this delightful surprise?"

"Richard, yes, good afternoon,"  Raoul rambled with the pleasantries as he took off his overcoat and hat, and sat in the chair on the other side of the desk.  "Merely a spot check, my good man.  You promised you'd have the final figures from last month ready today."

"Ahh, yes I did, didn't I?"  Firmin answered somewhat nervously as he reached into the drawer of his desk and pulled out a ledger.  He handed it across to Raoul, not noticing at first the slip of paper poking out of the edge.  

Raoul took the book, and opened it to the page marked by the paper, then stopped as his eyes widened.  The book fell to his lap, and then to his feet, as he clutched at the paper and his accusing eyes met with Firmin's.

"Firmin, how did you get this?" 

****

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

**Author's Notes:  I am learning that the save button is my friend, even when I'm on a roll and don't want to stop!  No, I was smart this time, and here's another chapter to prove it.  I fear I left it on a bit of a cliff, but I promise there is a reason for all those management scenes.  Yes, I know you've been enjoying the Erik and Christine scenes, and I promise they will return to you again in the next chapter!  _"What new surprises lie in store?????"_**

Deirdre:  Sorry to hear you've been having your own computer woes (I swear though, mine are my own stubborn fault!)  but I must say, if we shoot your computer and put it out of it's misery, then you won't be here to give me all those interesting reviews (and did I mention that most of them give me a good chuckle?  I find I like watching you fight with yourself!)

angelofnight:  You had BETTER write more of "Healing Old Wounds" please please PLEASE don't keep me waiting too long!

And that goes to all the others here that have fic's that are in progress that I'm reading!  Yes, I'm fic hungry, lol!

All right, I'll go, get back to writing . . . among other things!  Au revoir, mes amies!

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****_Stemwinder_**** -----'-----{@**


	19. Chapter Eighteen: This Thing Called Lov...

**Chapter Eighteen:  This Thing Called Love**

Three days later, Christine returned to the stables of the Opera Populaire for the carriage she had left there a week before, and drove it around to the gates of the Rue Scribe entrance, where Erik awaited to take over the reins.  With a few cat-like movements, Erik had loaded their valises, and was up in the carriage beside her.

"First stop, Nadir,"  Erik proclaimed.

The sun was shining extraordinarily bright for the time of year, and Christine noted that the mask was getting some curious glances from passers by.  She could tell Erik noted it as well, for every time he would stiffen, then, from a gentle touch from her, would relax once more.

The Rue de Rivoli came upon them quickly, and Erik handed Christine the reins once more as he descended from the carriage and made his way up to the door of the flat.  Moments later, he appeared with Nadir by his side.

"Good morning, Christine,"  Nadir greeted with a smile on his haggard face.

"Good morning, Nadir,"  Christine smiled back as the Persian climbed into the back of the carriage.

Erik again took his seat next to Christine, and she handed him the reins again.  "One more stop, then we're off,"  he proclaimed.

"One more stop?"  Nadir questioned.

"Yes,"  Christine answered,  "We have one other guest who is journeying with us, my friend, Meg Giry."

Nadir's dark face lost a pigment or two as he stared at Erik's back.

"Not to worry, Nadir,"  Erik answered his friend's unspoken question with a calm and even voice,  "Meg and I have already made our acquaintances."

Nadir let out the breath he had been holding in a sigh of relief.  To pass the time, he watched the people on the streets going about their morning business as usual, and soon they were outside a modest house on the Place de la Moulins.

This time, both Christine and Erik made their exodus from the carriage, and went up to the front door of the house.  A stiff knock and an opening of the door later, and Meg Giry appeared, all smiles.

"Christine, Erik!  Oh, I'm ready, but Maman would like to speak with you for a moment before we go if that's all right.  I just need to go get my bag."

"Of course,"  Erik replied as Meg showed them into the sitting room where Madame Giry waited.

"Ah, there you are,"  she said without preamble when the couple appeared before her.  She stood and walked over to them, and took Christine's hands in her own briefly.  As if she could sense the nervous tension, she put their fears to rest,  "No, I am not about to tell you that Meg can not go after all the planning and packing she has done over the last few days."  As the two figures before her relaxed, Giry turned to a small table near them where a package sat.  She picked up the package and handed it to them.  "I merely wished to give you a wedding present from myself personally before you left."

Christine smiled at Madame Giry's thoughtfulness, and a quick glance toward Erik told her he was doing the same.

"Madame Giry,"  Erik started,  "You really shouldn't have."

"Monsieur, you have been most kind to my daughter and I over the past few years we have been at the Opera house.  Of course I should have.  I know it is against tradition, but if you would humor an old lady and open it?"

Erik and Christine turned to each other, both of them with dancing eyes as they opened the parcel.  Erik held the box as Christine pulled out an intricately carved wooden plaque, on which were carved two harlequin masks, and between the two the words _'Perhaps one day, we can shed our masks of indifference.'_

Erik and Christine glanced at each other at the same time, and then both turned to Madame Giry with smiles on their faces.

"It's beautiful, Madame Giry,"  Christine stated plainly as Erik stood there silent, yet nodding his concurrence.

The older woman smiled in return,  "I am glad you both like it.  It is not easy to find something for people who seem to have everything."

Erik chuckled at the thought, though did not speak.  The silence that had come over the room was broken by Meg's light footsteps on the stairs.

"I'm ready,"  she said breathlessly, running up to her mother.

Madame Giry took her daughter into her arms for a quick embrace, before shooing them away,  "Go on, you have a long journey ahead of you."

Meg smiled, and ran over to Christine where the two girls linked arms.  Erik surreptitiously took Meg's bag as Madame Giry showed them to the door.  But before joining the ladies at the carriage, he paused, and turned to Madame Giry.

"Thank you, Madame Giry."

"Seeing that young girl happy is thanks enough, Monsieur.  Just take care of them, _s'il__ vous plait."_

"Of course,"  Erik answered, bowing gracefully, before he turned and joined the others at the carriage.  After stowing Meg's bag in the back, and helping the ladies into the waiting carriage, he climbed into the front once more, and the party was off.

****

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

****

The four people in the carriage were in boisterous spirits during the day-long journey.  Meg and Nadir took to each other right away as Nadir told the most outrageous stories of Erik's life in Persia, careful to keep mention of the murders out of the discussion.

"I tried, I really did, Daroga, _not to like you,"  Erik mumbled after Nadir recounted the time Erik 'borrowed' the Glory of the Empire to make a sick little boy happy.  "But you in your most uptight moments lends to hilarity."_

"Well, Erik, friendship finds itself in the strangest of places and circumstances, does it not?"  Nadir replied.

"Yes, I believe it does,"  Erik concurred somberly, as his left hand fell free from the reins and entwined with Christine's right.

The darkness of dusk fell before any of them realized just how much time had passed, accompanied by a cold which made them all pull their cloaks around them.  As the night fell, they came upon a little village.  Even though Erik's first instinct was to continue, he knew he couldn't very well ask Meg and Nadir to travel the way he and Christine had on their first journey.  He drove the carriage into the heart of the village in search of the inn he knew most villages had, and once they found it, sent Nadir in to reserve the rooms they would need for the night while he took care of the horses.

The four of them met again near the hearth in the great room of the inn, and Nadir handed the two women their door keys.  "Ladies, you are across the hall from us.  Shall we?"

Three heads nodded, and the little party made their way upstairs, Erik still taking caution to hide the mask.  They split up as they arrived at the rooms, Erik and Nadir going in one, and Meg and Christine in the other.

"Christine,"  Meg sighed as soon as they were alone,  "I know you told me about his face, but I hadn't realized he was so worried about it.  Does he often get those stares?"

"Yes,"  Christine answered.  "I wish it wasn't so, but he does.  It's why he usually keeps to himself.  The mask . . . it frightens some.  They don't know what to make of it."

"His face . . . Christine, is it really so terrible?  From what I can see of it, it can't be that bad.  I mean, other than the mask, he looks like a normal man.  A bit sarcastic at times, but normal nonetheless."

"Oh Meg, he is a normal man.  Just a man.  And if you find him sarcastic at times, well, it is only because of his past that he is so.  As to his face, well Meg, it really does not matter, does it?  Does what he looks like make that much of a difference?"

"No, not really, but only that I want to understand what accident of birth could cause him to hide so."

Christine lowered her head as memories of her first sight of that face returned to her.  "Meg, his face . . . until I saw it for the first time, I thought it could only exist in a nightmare.  But in many ways, I knew the man behind it before I had seen it.  To say it frightened me at first would be putting it lightly.  I did not react well.  But I came to accept, and in the end, I think it makes me love him all the more.  It altered everything, yet it changed nothing.  I couldn't explain that then, and I can't now.  Our world, Erik's and mine, it is not a place of neat, rational judgments.  Feelings take over the mind when the heart speaks, Meg."

Meg nodded her head as Christine ended her explanation.  "I won't ask again, and I'm sorry.  I know it changes nothing for you.  It was a weak moment of curiosity, forgive me?"

"Meg, there is nothing to forgive.  Perhaps you needed to understand it better anyhow."

"Yes, I fear I did.  Now, didn't Nadir say something about dinner?"

****

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**Author's Notes:  Just so you know, this is the second time I'm writing these notes out!  Computer decided to be a brat today . . . sigh.  Anyway, I feel mighty proud of myself with this phic right now.  Not only is it the longest piece I've ever written, but it's got more reviews than I ever would have imagined!  And y'all should be proud of yourselves . . . 96 at last count.  Thanks everyone!**

I'm slowly realizing every time I think I'm close to done, there's more to write.  This little beauty, which was supposed to be about 10 chapters at most, has grown beyond my imagination.  I hope it's better for it!

Ok, now that that is out of the way:

Deidre and angelofnight:  I am NOT going to say exactly what role Raoul is going to play, but he will make one or two other appearances.  And angelofnight, no rush, let your muse be your guide!  Deidre, you and that voice of reason . . . lets see if this gave you two something else to talk about!

Everyone else:  Hope you enjoy!

Oh yeah, one last note.  I'm surprised no one called me on it before, actually and still no one has noticed my mistake.  When I wrote the managers in, I inadvertently used the names from the ALW musical (what can I say, I had just seen the musical onstage for the first time, and they stuck with me!), and not Kay (which Kay mirrors Leroux on that one respect.)  So, if you're trying to figure out how the managers here relate to Kay, I figured it out this way.  ALW's Firmin is equal to Kay's Richard, and Mr. Andre is equal to Mr. Moncharmin.  Does that help?  Hope so!

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	20. Chapter Nineteen: Return to Rouen

**Chapter Nineteen:  Return to ****Rouen**

The next day passed uneventfully, and once again, they stopped right around dusk, Erik leaving Nadir once more the check them in to an inn.  And once again, they left shortly after daybreak.  By mid-day the third day, they were arriving on the outskirts of Rouen.

"Oh wow!"  Meg gasped as they came upon the Romanesque city.

They arrived at Degardeau Cottage, and Erik pulled the carriage around to the back.  The stable hand set to unhitching the horses as Erik and Nadir took the bags from the back of the carriage and went around to the front of the house.  A knock and a short wait, and Marie appeared at the door.

"Erik!  Christine!  Do come in, we'd been wondering when you would finally arrive!"  Marie stepped back from the door, and the foursome made their way inside the foyer.  After a flurry of activity discarding cloaks and hats, and a maid who came and took the bags from the men, the party made their way into the sitting room where Gerard was waiting for them.

"Ahh, our happy couple returns!"  Gerard exclaimed as he stood to greet his guests.

Erik bowed as he'd been taught all those years ago, but it was short lived as Gerard walked up to the younger man and embraced him warmly.  Erik stiffened at first, as this was the first time the two had initiated any contact outside of a handshake.  Then he relaxed, and it was then that Gerard released his grip and turned to Christine.  He took her hands in his, and gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek.  "You are looking marvelous.  Both of you."

Christine smiled up at the man before her, then stepped back.  "Gerard, Marie, we have some friends we'd like you to meet.  This is Meg Giry, my closest and dearest friend."

Marie smiled as Meg did a little curtsy.

"And Nadir Kahn,"  Erik indicated to his friend.  "Nadir and I have shared many adventures in the past."

"A pleasure to meet you both,"  Nadir cut in with his heavily accented French.  "Erik has told me much about you both."

"Only good things, I hope?"  Gerard kidded.

"Of course, Monsieur,"  Nadir answered.

"Christine, before I forget, the dresses arrived yesterday afternoon."

"Oh!  What perfect timing,"  Christine smiled.

"If you'd like to show your friend?"

Christine turned to Meg, and Meg nodded her head in approval.  Then she turned to the men, and with a softly placed hand on Erik's arm, said,  "If you gentlemen would be so kind as to excuse us?"

Erik smiled behind the mask, and took the fore,  "Of course, go and show Meg the dress."

The three women made their way back through the foyer and disappeared up the staircase, while Gerard gestured the men into the chairs in the sitting room.

"They will likely be up there for quite some time,"  he commented.  "Nadir, do you mind if I call you Nadir?"

"Of course not, Monsieur Degardeau,"  Nadir replied.

"Gerard, please,"  Gerard corrected.

"Of course, Gerard."

"I'm known for being rather impertinent, asking questions of everyone and such,"  Gerard continued on as Erik mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.  "Tell me, how did you meet my nephew?"

Nadir's eyes widened at the man's brazenness, and he looked to Erik for a moment as if asking his permission to recount the tale.  Erik nodded imperceptibly.

"Well, it is a rather long story, Gerard."

"Ah, the longer the better,"  Gerard smiled.  "I do love a good intrigue."

"This story is full of them, then.  As you can likely tell, I am not a native of your land.  Indeed, I was born in Persia, and was a member of the Persian court at the time I met Erik.  The Khanum, mother of the Shah-in-Shah, had heard a story from a fur trader of a marvelous magician with a voice of gold.  At first, I believed that the tales had to be elaborated, but it was not my place to say.  The Shah ordered me to find the man the trader spoke of, and bring him to Persia as entertainment to the Khanum.  So I searched, and came across him at Nijni-Novgorod.  Convincing him to return to Persia with me was quite a challenge, I assure you, but for some reason, he came.  And he stayed for more than three years, in which time, I came to know him."

Erik smiled behind the mask,  "You do tell the story so simply, Daroga.  You forget, however, that I returned with you to Persia because you seemed an intriguing fellow, although I have yet to figure out what made me think that at the time."

"And here I always believed it was the offer of power that drew you."

"Yes, quite.  That as well, of course."

Gerard raised an eyebrow at the verbal sparring session which was taking place before his eyes.

"Erik, you are incorrigible.  We are showing reprehensible manners in front of your uncle."

"Isn't he the one who just told us his own manners were deplorable?"

"I believe the term I used, Erik was impertinent,"  Gerard smiled.  "I don't know what it is about the men of my family, but we have this strange love of a good argument, or a good challenge.  And I fear, I like to be a bit of a voyeur on a good debate."

The three men chucked in camaraderie.

****

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"Oh Christine!"  Meg exclaimed as Marie brought the dress out.  Her hand lightly fingered the delicate fabric.  "It's exquisite, it really, truly is!"

"Thank you,"  Christine smiled at her friend.

"Just think, in five days, you'll be walking down the aisle, wearing this dress.  Are you nervous yet?"

"No, not nervous, excited though.  Marie, were you nervous when you married Gerard?"

"Yes, a bit,"  Marie answered candidly.  "Nervous, excited, anxious.  Of course, Gerard and I met late in life, and he had been married before, whereas I had been an old maid, still living with my brother at the time.  He did not care much for Gerard I fear, and yet . . . there was something about Gerard.  I knew the moment I met him."

"Did you have a long engagement, Madame Degardeau?"  Meg asked.

"Call me Marie, please.  And no, it wasn't that long.  As I said, we weren't exactly young when we met.  We knew each other for a time before he started courting me, but once he did, he proposed two weeks after that.  He said, 'Marie, I'm no spring chicken.  You are, but I'm definitely not!  Let's get married.'  I thought he was kidding at the time.  Ah, that man sure knows how to make a girl laugh.  Later, though, he took me out for a candlelight dinner, and he got down on one knee and gave me the ring.  It was a most exquisite evening, and a month later, we married in the church I where I grew up."

"Was it a large wedding, Marie?"  Meg asked.

"No, it was rather small.  A few acquaintances, mostly people from the village.  But it was beautiful nonetheless.  When I saw Gerard waiting for me at the alter, my breath caught in my throat, and the butterflies started playing in my stomach.  But it was still marvelous!"

"Oh, it sounds it!"  Christine marveled.

"Some days it seems like it was only yesterday, and others it seems like I've known Gerard forever.  Even after ten years of marriage, there are still things I'm learning about him.  And now, I'm more grateful than ever that I found him.  If we hadn't met, he may never have learned he does still have family."

A tear formed at the corner of Christine's eye.  "I can agree there.  If we hadn't been looking for you, Erik would never have known he had an uncle."

Marie smiled.  "It was funny, when Gerard first told me about his brother years ago, I never put it together.  I had no reason to.  And it wasn't until after he told me that Erik was his brother's son that we realized that we had met all those years ago.  Of course, Gerard was married at the time, to his first wife, rest her soul.  But it has taught us just how small our world really is; if we care to look close enough to know." 

****

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"I haven't laughed this hard in ages, Darling,"  Marie commented to Gerard later that night.

"I am glad to see they are making you happy, _mon amour,"  Gerard answered.  "At first I had some worries, given some of the stories you told me of Erik's childhood, and some of your reactions to the boy."_

"Gerard, I was little more than a scared child myself then.  And I did try so hard not to show him any fear.  I could not help my natural reaction to his face, although I admit, it's a bit easier not seeing it, I still feel bad that he will not give up the mask."

"Perhaps he's just not ready, Marie.  From what you've told me, his whole life when ever anyone sees his face, they tend to turn in fear."

"Yes, usually upon first sight.  Oh Gerard, I realize you don't quite understand, never having seen.  And I know that you'd love him anyway, simply because of who he is.  Not for what he looks like."

Gerard closed his eyes in concentration for a moment.  "I only wish that could have been so years ago.  If I had seen him when he was born, I fear I would have had a similar reaction to everyone else.  I was selfish back them.  Still am, in my own way, but nothing like I was once.  You've made me better, my love."

Marie smiled at her husband, and took his hand in hers.  "I'd say the same about you, _mon__ amour."_

****

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Christine stood by the window of her room, the darkness enshrouding her whole being save her face, which was bathed by the moonlight.

'_Only four more days,' she thought,  __'until__ Erik and I are husband and wife.  The thought is still terrifying and yet exciting.  I can hardly wait, and yet . . . I'm almost afraid that the spell that is between us now will be broken.'_

_'No,'  Christine shouted in her mind.__  'Nothing could change what I feel for Erik.  And nothing is going to part us except Death.  Oh God!'  A tear found its way unbidden down her cheek at the thought.  She wrapped her arms around herself as if it would protect her that way, but her heart still remembered the thought._

She didn't hear him come up behind her, but she felt him, as she always did, before he laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You should be sleeping,_ mon petit,"  he whispered._

A small smile formed on Christine's face at the sound of his voice behind her.  "Should I dare to ask just how often you come to check on me?"  she kidded.

"Enough to know you haven't been sleeping well the past few nights,"  Erik answered.

Christine sighed.  "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"You're troubled."

"Perhaps."

"Tell me."

Silence came over the room.  Christine wasn't sure how to phrase her thoughts.  She didn't want to worry him, and she knew that if she told him, he would worry.

"Are you having second thoughts, Christine?"  Erik finally asked, the fear dripping from his voice.

Christine turned to face him, a look of horror on her countenance.  "How could you think that?"

Erik ducked his head.  Her reaction told him what he needed to know, and although his heart soared with joy that she wasn't, he felt chastised by the hurt expression on her face.  "It's my worst fear, that one day, you'll see me for what I really am, and you'll . . ."

Christine's features softened.  "But Erik, I do see you how you are.  I thought perhaps by now, you would realize that.  I don't fool myself anymore about your past.  And your face holds no more horror for me.  You know that."

She watched as Erik closed his eyes in consternation behind the mask.  "Yes, I know.  I'm sorry for my doubting ways."

"You have nothing to apologize for, Erik.  Everyone has fears."

Silence reigned once more, before Erik closed the last steps between them and took his small hands in his larger ones.  "I have just told you mine.  Perhaps it may help if you were to tell me yours."

Christine lowered her head and stared down at their intertwined hands.  "I don't know how."

Erik disentwined one hand, and raised it to her chin, lightly chucking underneath so that she would raise her eyes to look into his, hidden behind the mask.  "Please, my love.  You should know that you have nothing to fear from me."

A tear spilled unbidden from her eye, and his hand reached up to brush it from her cheek.  More tears followed, and without another word, he took her into his arms as she let loose the emotions flowing inside her.

"Nothing to fear but losing you,"  she whispered into his shirt.

His eyes widened unseen behind the mask, and his grip on her tightened.  "I would never leave you,"  he answered hoarsely as the emotion choked him as well.

"Not by choice, no,"  Christine managed to say between sobs.

Her meaning dawned upon him, and it tore his heart in two.  They held to each other in silence for a long time, before Erik felt Christine's knees begin to buckle.  With a swift, silent movement, he swept her up into his arms, and carried her to the bed, and gently laid her there between the sheets.  As he tried to lay her head down on the pillow, he felt her grasp on him tighten, and realized his assumption that she'd fallen asleep was incorrect.

"Please,"  she whispered.  "Just until I fall asleep."

Finally he understood why she had not been sleeping well.  She always seemed to sleep well enough the nights they'd fallen asleep in each other's arms, and it had made him wonder at first.  Yet he had discounted the thought that she was having the same trouble he was.  Yet his voice failed him, so he merely nodded his assent, and held her until her breathing slowed and her arms went slack, and then he laid her down upon the pillow and tucked the covers around her.  He could not help but place a tender kiss upon her forehead before he whispered,  "Sleep well, _mon ange."_

He slipped from the room as quietly as he had come, and returned to the hallway where he ran smack into Nadir.

A muttered Persian curse issued from his lips before he dragged Nadir down the hall and into his own room.

"Eavesdropping, my friend?"

"Not at all,"  Nadir assured him as his eyebrow quirked in question.  "Merely I couldn't sleep, so I came to see how you were faring, and found you gone.  I knew you would likely be awake, but somehow I never expected to find you in Christine's room."

"I assure you, nothing happened."

"Your shirt is wet, Erik."

  
Erik glanced down, and he could see where her tears had stained the starched white of his dress shirt.  "And why should I explain to you?"

"I never asked for an explanation, Erik.  And neither did I condemn you to your European traditions regarding making love before marriage, you forget I don't hold to them myself."

"I'll have you know, Daroga, that nothing happened, whatever you may believe."

Nadir's eyebrow quirked again.

Erik sighed,  "You couldn't sleep.  What is it with people and not sleeping?"

The eyebrow remained up.  "I couldn't say.  I've had problems for years."

"That would not surprise me in the least."

"You're being cryptic again, Erik."

"Persia would be enough to give anyone nightmares,"  Erik sighed as he turned to the window.  The moonlight glinted off the mask in the eerie stillness.  "She fears my death, Nadir."

Silence for a moment, before Nadir posed the question,  "Does she have cause to do so?"

"Perhaps,"  Erik admitted.  "I do not know."

"Are you ill then?"

"Merely I am getting old."

"That's not funny, Erik.  I am older than you are."

"Yes, perhaps."

"Why does she fear your death, Erik?  Surely there had to be something to bring that on."

Erik glanced over at his friend, yes, friend, and recounted the story of the day Christine tore the mask from his face.

Nadir, for his part, sat silently as Erik told the story, even when Erik looked away and continued to stare out the window while he spoke.  And when Erik had finished, the silence fell between them once more.

"Why did you not tell me before?"

"There is little that can be done, Nadir, of that I am sure."

"Your studies, of course, but you are not a doctor, Erik.  Perhaps you should think on seeing one."

"No!"  Erik whirled around to face Nadir.  "You know as well as I what would happen should a doctor encounter this face!"

Nadir shook his head in sadness.  "For Christine's sake, then, at least consider it,"  he whispered as he rose from the chair and made his way to the door.  He paused upon opening it, and glanced back at the stiff, unbending figure who was once more staring out the window.  Without another word, Nadir left his friend alone in the darkness which still engulfed him.

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**Author's Notes:  Yes, I know I just likely threw some of you for a loop there.  It's a thought that's been plaguing me as well, since Erik in Kay's version died shortly after Christine and Raoul left the lair . . . and I'm pretty sure that I'm well past that point on the timeline, even if it never happened in my version.  And yet, Erik's illness would eventually have to be discussed, would it not?  I have not decided exactly how it will play out, though it's not going to become a major factor before the wedding, that I am certain of.  Merely their respective worries about it.  Besides, it gave me a good scene, in my opinion!**

Ash:  Ah yes, Raoul and the Note.  Not going to answer that question except to tell you this:  it will play a part, and very soon, you shall see, and all shall be explained!

Angelofnight:  The muse is being nice to me today, and gave me good fodder to play with.  Would be more, but the family awaits upstairs . . . sigh, oh well, love them anyways!  And yeah, there is a difference, me and my details (who needs details, huh?  Ah well, least I explained my own incongruities!)

Everyone else:  Hope you're all still enjoying, and just who is going to give me that 100th review?  I'm looking forward to it, in fact, I'm gonna celebrate when it comes in!  

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	21. Chapter Twenty: I Know Your Story

**Chapter Twenty:  I Know Your Story**

The morning dawned bright and cold, and it took a moment for Christine to remember where she was, before she smiled.  Rouen.  Then she thought that in four days, she would waken to prepare for her wedding.

She rose slowly from the bed and went once more to the window.  Several moments passed in silence as she stared out into the winter wonderland of Rouen.  She had stared out this window the night before, until Erik had come to the room and found her there.  Even though she had confided her fears, he did not assuage them as she had hoped he might.  She had no doubt he understood what she meant.  Could it be the thought bothered him as well?

He'd stayed with her until she fell asleep, of that she was certain.  Even over his recent protestations about propriety, he couldn't deny her his presence last night.  A small smile formed over her face at that thought.  But if reassuring her by his presence was so important, why could he not reassure the fear she'd held with his words?

She shook the thought from her head and turned from the beautiful landscape that was set out before her, and set about getting ready for the day.

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A day filled with camaraderie as the six occupants of Degardeau cottage spent time just getting to know one another better.  Anyone who cared to glance in on the tableau could tell that Marie and Gerard were very much enjoying their guests.  And that evening, with first Christine's insistence then Gerard's joining in, Erik sang for them.

"I have not sung in front of an audience in years,"  Erik protested.

"I sing in front of an audience many nights, Erik, and yet your voice still far surpasses mine,"  Christine declared.

"Besides, Marie has told me that she heard you sing when you were a child,"  Gerard interrupted,  "and that you had the most beautiful voice she has ever heard.  We have a piano in the drawing room, and sheet music if you need it."

Christine could see Erik reddening under the mask, and also noted the movement of his hands.  It had been a few days since they left Paris, and she knew he had to be itching to play.  "If you like,"  she whispered,  "I'll sing with you."

Erik's eyebrow cocked unseen behind the mask, though Christine could see the movement she recognized as such.  

"Please?"  she continued.  "You want to play, and to sing, and it would mean so much to us, to me."

At that, Erik acquiesced,  "Yes.  But only if you join me, _mon__ amour."_

Christine nodded her agreement, and the six of them made their way to the drawing room.  Erik guided Christine over to the piano, and Gerard showed them the box containing the scores.  The couple then sorted through them, looking for the right piece, and finally, agreed upon the love duet from _Faust._

Erik sat down at the piano with a flourish, and Christine took her place standing beside it, at an angle where she could see him.  They looked at each other briefly, and when both nodded, Erik began playing the introduction.

The scene began with Christine's recitative of Marguerite. _"Il se fait tard, adieu!"_

_"Quoi! je t'implore en vain!  Attends!  Laisse ta main s'oublier dans la mienne, laisse-moi, contempler ton visage.  Sous la pâle clarté.  Dont l'astre de la nuit, comme dans un nuage, Caresse, ta beauté."_

_"O silence ô bonheur!  Ineffable mystère!  Enivrante langueur!  J'écoute et je comprends cette voix solitaire  Qui chante, dans mon coeur!  Laissez un peu, de grâce."_

_"Qu'est-ce donc?"_

_"Un simple jeu!  Laissez, laissez un peu!"_

_"Que dit ta bouche à voix basse?"_

_"Il m'aime... il ne m'aime pas, Il m'aime... pas...  il ne m'aime pas, Il m'aime!"_

_"Oui, crois en cette fleur éclose sous tes pas. Qu'elle soit pour ton coeur.  L'oracle du ciel même!  Il t'aime!  comprends-tu ce mot sublime et doux?  Aimer!  Porter en nous une ardeur toujours nouvelle!  Nous enivrer sans fin d'une joie éternelle!"_

And then their voices blended into one, and lingered there for an interminable moment,_  "__Eternelle__!"_

A short silence before Erik picked up with his line,_  "__O nuit d'amour! ciel radieux!  __O douces flammes!  Le bonheur silencieux.  Verse les cieux, les cieux  Dans nos deux âmes!"_

_"Je veux t'aimer et te chérir!  Parle encore! Je t'appartiens! Je t'adore!  Pour toi je veux mourir!  Parle, parle encore!  Ah ! je t'adore!  Pour toi je veux mourir."_

_"Marguerite."_

_"Ah partez!"_

_"Marguerite! Cruelle."_

_"Ah partez! Je chancelle!"_

_"Me séparer de toi! Cruelle!"_

_"Laissez-moi!  Ah! partez, partez, oui partez vite.  Partez, je tremble, hélas! j'ai peur!  Ne brisez pas le coeur de Marguerite!"_

_"Tu veux, tu veux que je te quitte!  Vois ma douleur, hélas! vois ma douleur!  Marguerite! tu me brises le coeur!  Par pitié!"_

_"Si je vous suis chère . . ."  if I am dear to you . . ._

_"Marguerite!"_

_"Par votre amour, par ces aveux  Que je devais taire,  Cédez à ma prière, cédez à mes voeux!  Partez, partez, oui, partez vite!  Partez, je tremble hélas! j'ai peur!  Ne brisez pas le coeur de Marguerite!"_

_"Divine pureté!  Chaste innocence,  Dont la puissance  Triomphe de ma volonté!  J'obéis! mais demain."_

_"Oui, demain, dès l'aurore, demain, toujours!"_

_"Un mot encore!  Répète-moi ce doux aveu!  Tu m'aimes?"_

_"Adieu!"_

_"Félicité du ciel!  Ah ! fuyons!"_

Erik's final note died away, and the silence descended upon the room for a moment, before the other occupants broke out in applause at the beautiful show of vocal talent they had just seen.

Erik rose from the bench of the piano, and took Christine's hand in his own.  A fiery glance between them, and they turned to face their small audience, ever the performers, they made a bow and curtsey respectively.

As Christine glanced at the faces in the room, she could not help but notice there was not a dry eye amongst them.  Gerard was the first to rise, and he clasped his nephew on the shoulder.

"That was the finest rendition of Faust I have ever heard, my boy.  The two of you should be very proud of yourselves."

Now, both Erik and Christine blushed, and both smiled.

****

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As everyone else headed up to bed, Christine and Erik lingered a moment in the drawing room, the first chance they'd had to be alone since the night before.  The tension between them had been obvious throughout the day, but neither wanted to bring up the subject at hand with an audience present.

They watched each other from across the room at first, neither knowing quite where to begin, and the silence spanned out for nearly two minutes before Erik finally walked over to where Christine was standing near the piano with her fingers lightly trailing along the keys.

"You've been wanting to say something all day, _mon ange, I could see it in your eyes,"  he whispered._

"Yes,"  she replied simply as she stared at the keys.  "Erik, have you ever wanted to say something, and not know the words to phrase it?"  
  


"At times,"  he answered.  His hand moved slowly up under her chin, and drew her eyes to meet his.  "I know what it is you were not able to say last night, Christine, and yes, it is a thought which has worried me from time to time as well.  I am by no means a young man any more, but I'd like to think I'm still somewhere in my prime.  That I still have a few good years left yet.  If that is not enough for you, I do understand."

"Oh Erik,"  she sighed.  "You must realize I wouldn't trade any moment we have together away, it's just . . . I'm so afraid, I just found you not that long ago, and to lose you . . ."

"I'm not going anywhere, not yet,"  he assured her as he led her into his embrace.  They clung to each other like two scared swimmers about to take an unthinkable plunge, until a cough sounded in the vicinity of the doorway.

They parted, and two sets of eyes followed to the source of the sound, to find Meg standing in the doorway.

"Marie is asking for you, Christine,"  Meg said simply after a moment in which the three of them stared amongst themselves.

"Could you tell her I'll be up in a moment, Meg?"  Christine asked.

"Certainly,"  Meg answered, and then disappeared as quickly as she had come.

Christine turned back to Erik, and he reached out and brushed a tendril of long curly hair out of her face.  "_Ma petit Christine."_

She smiled at the phrase, and once more they found themselves wrapped in each other's arms, and his lips descended upon hers, and for a moment, all thoughts and fears were gone from their minds.

****

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**Author's Notes:  I'm celebrating!  Review number 100, gosh, I'm so proud of my little baby, anyways, thank you to snapdragon who made number 100 . . . honorable mentions go to eclectic_blue for number 101, Chicketieboo numbers 102 AND 103 (Wow, I feel loved, twice in a row!  And I'll be sending you an e-mail about hosting the story on the other site) Elenmir for number 104, Angelofnight for number 105, Deidre for number 106 (and that voice of reason again!  She really needs her own screen name, doesn't she?) and Yami No Eyes for number 107!  Phew, think I got them all!**

Okay, now . . . no, Erik is NOT dying anytime quite soon, I just wanted to give them a little drama, besides, it's only a few days until the wedding, I can't kill him off now, it would just be a crime!

Yami:  Thank you for pointing out those little inaccuracies of mine . . . I'm hoping that the fact they got the dress made so quickly can be overlooked just this once because they did NOT want to wait a year to marry, though I know that people back then married that quickly on occasion, so they had to SOMEHOW get the dresses made . . . hmmm, perhaps if we say that they paid extra to have it made quickly, do you think that's a possibility?  Let me know, please.  Oh, and I didn't take offence, everyone has their own preferred genre, I just happen to be a sucker for romance.  Although every now and then I feel the need to cross to other genres . . . keeps me on my toes!  As for Erik seeing a doctor . . . this is a bit more than a cold, I fear, if Kay is to believed in what she wrote, Erik's illness was a bit more serious, though she does not give us specifics, so, for the time, it is merely coming up in discussions.  I suspect, though, that he may have had a heart attack in the novel, or something similar, I can not verify that.  Also, it is just a few days before Christmas, they are planning on holding the wedding on Christmas Day.  I did some research on the Muslim calendar, and there would be no corresponding holiday for Nadir at this time (the Muslim calendar is lunar based, as opposed to the solar based calendar the Catholics and the Jews use . . . a lunar calendar is about 11 days shorter than a solar, therefore, a holy day does not necessarily fall on the same day as explained by our solar calendar.)  I found a site which explains it, and if anyone else wants it for future research purposes, here's the link:    

http://www2.cs.pitt.edu/~tawfig/convert/convert.cgi             The introduction link on this page was most helpful in explaining the differences to me.

Angelofnight:  Supercalafragalisticexpialidocious indeed!  Who cares if that word goes to the wrong story, I like your use of it!

  
Deirdre:  Can't wait to see if your VOR has anything to say about this one!

George Esmerelda:  Some of my favorite reviews are the long ones . . . I get a better sense of my readers that way.  As to Erik's morphine addiction . . .  it's not coming up in this story, no.  I'm working on what I am sure is the next to last chapter, and since it hasn't been, it's not going to be.  The heart attack . . . well, it's played all the part it's going to in this story . . . if there is a sequel, I may touch on them again, but I don't know yet that there is.  My muse is a very fickle creature, I've been known to write a story and then say "This is it, no sequels!" up and down till I'm blue in the face, then my muse throws out a question . . . "You left this, this, this, and this unanswered.  Get to writing." And that's it, instant sequel.  We shall see indeed.

And Snapdragon:  The wedding is coming . . .very soon, I assure you.  I'm almost to the point I was when I lost those pages, and have added more in on the way since my memory was not QUITE that good to write everything complete, but still . . . I think this is a bit better than what I originally had, so everything has it's silver lining.

Au Revior, until next update, mon amies!

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	22. Chapter Twenty One: See What You're Goi...

**Chapter Twenty-One:  See What You're Going Through**

Two days passed by in peaceful camaraderie and a blur of preparations, and Christmas Eve dawned clear and bright.  Christine bounded out of bed with endless excitement, knowing only one day remained before her life would be completely changed.

She ran down the stairs that morning with a child-like grace, and found only Erik and Nadir gracing the breakfast table.  She sat down, and listened to the conversation the two seemed to be deeply involved in.

"It does not make me feel uncomfortable at all, Erik."

"I know you do not celebrate Christmas, Nadir, and trust me, I am sure that Gerard and Marie know it as well."

"Erik, it is not an issue."

"Then why bring it up?"

"I am not sure why,"  Nadir admitted, slipping into Persian.  "I just did.  You have this way of making people bring up things they otherwise wouldn't think twice about, Erik.  I've never quite figured it out."

"And you're being impolite to boot,"  Erik jokingly scolded as he turned to face Christine.  "We bicker like two old men, eh?"

Christine shook her head in amusement, but did not rise to his bait.  She reached for a croissant, and absentmindedly buttered it.

"I merely wondered if there would be guests,"  Nadir continued.

"I don't know, you would have to ask Marie and Gerard."

"It does not bother you?"

"No one ever said I had to be down for the festivities, now did they?"

"No, but still Erik, you know Gerard at least will expect you down there, now won't he?"

"Perhaps.  I am sure that the question can be answered readily, now can't it?"  Erik asked as Marie and Gerard, followed by Meg, joined the group already seated at the table.

"What question?"  Gerard asked, immediately jumping into the conversation.

"My friend here is a bit curious as to what plans you had for Christmas,"  Erik asked.

Marie's mouth widened in an O as a thought occurred to her.  And widened further as another followed on its footsteps.

"Gerard my love, we may have made a slight oversight."

Gerard glanced between the three of them, and the same conclusion slammed into him.  "Oh dear."

"If it is that you wish me to remain hidden, I assure you I am well used to doing just that,"  Erik stated.

"Nothing of the sort, Erik.  There is no reason for you to hide on Christmas Eve.  In fact, that was not my thought at all.  I am afraid, in my ignorance, I forgot momentarily that Nadir would not celebrate this holiday, am I correct in my assumption?"

"Yes, Gerard,"  Nadir answered.  "You are very much correct, but as I was telling Erik, though I may not believe in the customs of your faith, I see no reason for you not to celebrate as you please.  I would merely look upon it as another party.  It was merely that I know of Erik's _reluctance to show himself to most of the world, and within reason, that I broached the subject."_

Gerard seated himself across from Erik, and the two held a stare for a moment before Gerard broke the silence,  "Erik, you are my nephew, and I see no reason for you _not to attend.  The party is not going to run very late, as we do have a wedding tomorrow, and it will be fairly small, and . . . it's a masquerade."_

Erik's eyebrow cocked behind the mask.  "A masquerade?"

"Of sorts, while fancy costume is not required, everyone wears a mask.  It was Marie's idea."

  
"I do love a good masquerade,"  Marie sighed.  "We actually hold one every Christmas.  We have quite a selection of masks, actually."

Erik sighed in his relief.  Whether or not they were telling the truth, he could not be sure, but he was not about to question it.

Next to him, Christine took a hold of his hand, and he turned his head to face her.  At her smile, the last of his doubts faded away.  "Then we'll attend."

****

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The guests trickled in one by one, and by seven o'clock, there were an extra twenty people in Degardeau cottage, most from Rouen society, and all of them masked.

"So then Gerard,"  a portly man in a dress suit and peacock mask asked,  "You said that nephew of yours would be here, the one who showed up a few weeks ago."

"Showed up is hardly the word I would use, Archibald.  And I'm rather glad he found me."  
  


"Yes, well, your soft spot for family is well known, since George's death.  Still, from what little you've said, I'd like to meet the fellow.  Of course, any son of Charles' would have to be bright, now would they not?"

"Quite,"  Gerard mumbled in return, as he turned to find his wife approaching him.  "Marie, darling!"

"Hello love,"  Marie answered.  She turned to the portly man at her husband's side,  "Archibald, it's been too long."

Archibald smiled mischievously as he took Marie's hand in his own and kissed it with a flourish.  "Way too long, m'dear."

"I hate to interrupt the two of you, but Gerard, Michel and Danielle are looking for you.  If you'll excuse us, Archibald?"

"Of course.  Just remember, Gerard, make sure I don't leave without meeting your nephew."

"Of course,"  Gerard called as Marie lead him to the other side of the room.  As soon as they were out of earshot, Gerard whispered,  "Thank you, Love.  I don't know why we keep inviting that pompous old coot."

"Because he's one of your best customers, dear,"  Marie replied.

"Ah, that's it.  I knew there had to be a reason.  Have our other guests come down yet?  So hard to tell with all these masks."

"Meg and Nadir have, Erik and Christine are still upstairs I believe."

"Wonder what's taking them so long?"

"If I'm not mistaken, I do believe your nephew has cold feet about this party,"  Marie answered.

"Is that a hint for me to go upstairs and see what is taking them so long?"

"Me?  Hint?  I wouldn't dream of it Gerard!"  Marie smiled coyly at her husband.

"And I know that look, darling.  All right, I'll go.  Save a dance or two for me, won't you?"

"They are all for you, Love.  Go on."

Gerard made his way up the stairs and as soon as he was outside Erik's room, he could hear exactly why they were not yet downstairs.

"I know he expects me down there, Christine,"  Erik's voice, though not shouting, held a note of anger and danger.  "I don't know if I can do this, masquerade or not!"

"Erik, no one needs know about your face.  In a room full of other masks, who is going to know the difference?"

"Me!  I will.  I'll be down there, staring at all those masks, wondering if Gerard and Marie were just trying to be kind by turning their Christmas party into a masked ball.  Don't deny that the thought occurred to you as well, because I know it has.  You would likely do the same thing if it were you in their shoes.  Perhaps if I were normal, I would do the same as well, but Christine, I'm not!  I know full well what I am."

"You are going to have to get it through your head, Erik, one of these days, that your face does not matter to everyone.  Would Meg or Nadir be here if it did?"

"Meg has never seen,"  Erik whispered.  "And Nadir is . . . Nadir is . . . I can't explain that, but Nadir is different.  With Nadir, he is here because of a place that is completely out of time."

"Persia, though you have never told me the full story, I know that at least.  He didn't care what happened there, Erik.  And I am here, so you know that though I know the worst of it, at least I believe I do, that it does not matter to me, either."

A rustling of clothes, and then silence for a moment, before Erik spoke again,  "Yes, for some reason I can not comprehend, you are here despite my past and my face, and God knows I am grateful for that every day I awaken.  But the people down there, Christine, they are from the world that for so long I have turned my back on, the world that I allowed to drive me down below the Opera in the first place."

_'Down below the Opera?'  Gerard thought.__  'I must remember to ask him about that one some time!'_

"Gerard and Marie are from the world, Erik.  And they accepted you with open arms and hearts, without recriminations or regrets.  When you were born, most of the village shunned your mother, no, don't you turn your head away from me!  I'm not dancing around that issue anymore, Erik.  Most of the village shunned your mother, and Marie remained her friend regardless.  And she is of the world.  Gerard, when you and I appeared on their doorstep a few weeks ago, welcomed you before he knew who you were, even with his guess of what lay beyond that mask.  Now, if they are willing to accept you for who you are, if Nadir and Meg are willing to be here with us tomorrow regardless of what you've done, if I am here with you, beside you, regardless of your face or your past, now, doesn't that say something?"

Another silence followed, in which Gerard could not make out the mutterings he knew to be from Erik.

"So you'll come with me?"

"Yes," came the muted answer.

"Then let's go,"  Christine stated, before he could change his mind, and with that, Gerard replaced his silken black domino mask, and gave up his post at the door to head back down the stairs.

****

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"Well?"  Marie asked as Gerard returned to her side.

"I didn't have to do a thing.  Christine did it all for me without me having to poke my big nose in it,"  Gerard replied.  He gestured to the staircase, where Erik and Christine were making their way down, thus far unnoticed by the rest of the crowd.

"He still looks worried,"  Marie commented.

"I don't doubt he is,"  Gerard agreed.  "Don't worry, Love.  I'll go put him at ease, at least, I hope I will.  If nothing else, he won't be able to run back upstairs to hide!"  Gerard left his wife's side once again to join the couple who was now at the bottom of the staircase.

"We were beginning to wonder,"  Gerard said jovially as he stood before the couple,  "if the two of you were going to make it down tonight."

Erik and Christine stole a glance between them before Christine answered for Erik,  "I was having a bit of a problem choosing a mask, Gerard."

Gerard nodded, even though he knew that wasn't the real reason.  "Well, there are plenty of people waiting to meet the both of you, so, shall we?"

Erik's hand fidgeted slightly before he nodded his acquiescence, and he and Christine followed Gerard into the crowd.

****

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**Author's Notes:  Yes, the end is indeed near.  As you can likely tell, the next chapter will indeed be the wedding we've all been waiting for.  There will be a few surprises yet, and I am not giving you a single clue!  I'm about half-way through writing it (merely taking a break to write out the notes to this chapter before uploading it!)**

Deidre:  Glad you liked the Faust lyrics.  Don't fear, I took French for four years in High School (um, that was a while ago!) and now, I can barely remember it either.  The Book Of 101 Opera Librettos is my trusted friend (and thankfully, it gives the libretto in the native tongue and an English translation right beside it!).  Just don't ask about how long it took to type all that out and then go over it and double check all the spelling (makes me want to strangle MS Word's spell check, red lines all over the place, sheesh!)

Angelofnight:  Ahhh, little touchy on the review button, are we?  Ahhh, I don't mind!  Enjoy your high and the letter touched by your God, lol.  I would likely agree if I were in your shoes, though closest I have to that is my picture with me, Rebecca Pitcher and Tim Martin Gleason (a God in his own right!)  Who wants to go to Toledo?

Chicketieboo:  Yes, you will find out in due time, and I'm not saying another word!

Yami:  Check your mail, s'il vous plait!

Everyone else:  Chapter 22:  The wedding!  Thanks for reading and reviewing!

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	23. Chapter Twenty Two: Loves Comes To Thos...

**Chapter Twenty-Two:  Loves Comes To Those Who Believe It**

The sun was streaming in the window as Erik awoke the next morning, and stretched in the large expanse of the bed.  The smile was firmly planted on his unmasked face even before his eyes had opened.  He knew what this day would hold, the best present he had ever been given.  Love, pure, simple yet complex.  To have and to hold from this day forward.

His hands, without thought, touched his face, and yet even that action, the one he had used to keep himself grounded in reality these many years, held no sway over his emotions on this morning.  For once, Christmas had come to him.  He climbed out of the covers and went about preparing for the day.

****

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****

A few rooms down the hall, a smaller figure was also rising from her slumber, a sleep filled with the most pleasant dreams.  As her eyes opened, the smile also adorned her face.

_'Erik,'  came the simple thought._

This was the day that would change her life.  For in a few hours, she would no longer be Christine Daae, the young ingénue of the Opera Populaire, but Christine Laramie, wife of Erik Laramie.

Her hand flew to touch the smile on her face, to touch anything to prove to herself that she was in a wakened state and no longer dreaming.  Once she was assured that she was indeed awake, she climbed out of the covers, and started preparing for the day.

****

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****

The house was in full hustle by nine in the morning, with Meg and Marie in Christine's room, and Nadir and Gerard with Erik.  Soon, the men were out the front door on their way to the church, leaving the women alone in the house.  By ten, the three women were ready themselves.

"Oh Christine!"  Meg sighed as she and Marie took a step back from the transformed bride before them.

"My dear,"  Marie whispered,  "You are going to render him speechless."

"Do you really think so?"  Christine asked, the blush creeping up in her cheeks.

"Yes, dear, I am absolutely positive of it,"  Marie answered honestly.

Christine took a moment to gaze at the reflection in the mirror.  Her mind slowly drifted back to the last time she had worn a wedding dress . . . the night that she and Erik had gone to the Bois, and upon returning, she had wanted her lesson.  Erik's suggestion of doing the _Terra, Addio from __Aida in the wedding dress he had bought with her in mind.  His eyes behind the mask going dark with lust, though she did not understand the significance at the time._

Would he feel the same feelings for her when she walked down the aisle to greet him in a few hours?

The thought filled her with anticipation and a smidgen of fear for the unknown, yet the anticipation won out.  She turned away from the mirror to face the two ladies before her.

"It's almost time, Christine,"  Meg said softly.

Christine nodded, and they made their way out of the room and down the stairs, stopping only long enough to don their cloaks before heading out the door and walking to the waiting coach.

****

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Erik was already pacing the length of the Sacristy in his nervousness by ten-thirty.

"You're making me dizzy, Erik,"  Nadir stated in Persian.

"I can't help it,"  Erik replied.  "I've only half an hour before the wedding is to start, and damn it, Nadir, I've never . . . I've never . . ."

"You're frightened.  I do believe it is a perfectly natural feeling, Erik."

Erik glanced at Nadir, the eyes behind the mask filled with contempt.  "Forgive me for putting this bluntly, Nadir, but I somehow doubt that you went into your marriage as . . . inexperienced as I am."

Nadir cocked an eyebrow.  Normally, Erik was very cryptic, to hear him stating anything so bluntly as he just had was very out of character, and yet, there it was, the comment hanging between them.  "Are you saying you've never been with a woman?"

Erik swooped around, and placed his hands on the window sill for support as he rasped out his answer,  "Yes, that is exactly what I am saying."

"You wouldn't be the first man, Erik, who was a virgin on his wedding day, I am sure"  Nadir answered, a reddish color staining his dark cheeks,  "and I assure you, it is a perfectly natural process."

"Look, I was a fool for brining this up in the first place, Daroga.  Let's forget it."

Nadir's eyebrow came down from its cocked position, and he said no more, instead letting the silence reign until Gerard entered the nave.  

"They've arrived."

****

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Across the street from the church, he stood, and saw the three women disembark from the carriage.  As the carriage pulled away, he gained sight of the bride, resplendent in the shining white dress.

_'Surely she must be an angel sent down from Heaven,'  he thought.  __'Even from this distance, I can see the radiant joy on her face.  Why did I come here to torture myself?  Can I honestly burst in there and try to object, which may destroy her happiness?  Perhaps it is merely I question that she is not hypnotized, some insane need to see them together, to know for sure, but some how, some way, I will be in that church!'_

****

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Erik took his place at the alter, and Nadir, Meg, Marie and Gerard sat in the pew, waiting for the music to start the short processional.

Pachabel's Canon in D played on the piano, and there she was, the shining white of her dress making Erik think of all the angels in Heaven as she glided down the aisle to meet him.  The dress was scoop-necked with short sleeves and a slit layer skirt, the top layer pulled to the sides to reveal the under layer, with tiny flowers dotting along the hems of the top layer.  Her hair was pulled up in an intricately woven braid that wrapped around her head, and the veil a tiny hat, sprinkled with baby's breath and with long flowing layers of the cloud like gauze shrouding her face, the back part of the veil flowing over the hidden bustle and stretching down the aisle past the impossibly long train of the dress.  As she came closer, he held out his hand, and the breath caught in his throat when she took it in her small white gloved one.  Gently, he led her up to the alter, where Monsignor Dominique was waiting for them.

Time seemed to stand still, and the bride and groom paid little attention to the words of the mass, neither able to totally clear their heads of their own respective thoughts centering on the person by their respective sides.  Thoughts which only cleared as Monsignor began the vows.

They stood face to face as the Monsignor asked them to repeat the words as old as time.

"I Erik, take thee, Christine, for my lawful wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

"I Christine, take thee, Erik, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part."

"And now the ring,"  Dominique intoned.

Erik produced two simple wedding bands from the pocked of his suit jacket, and handed it to the priest.  Both watched as the priest blessed the rings, and handed one back to Erik and told him the words to say.

Erik took Christine's left hand, and reverently slid the ring on her fourth finger,  "This ring I give thee, in token and pledge, of my constant faith and devotion."

Then Dominique handed the other ring to Christine, and motioned that she do the same.

With a smile, Christine took Erik's left hand in her two small ones, and gently placed the ring on the corresponding finger as she spoke the words,  "This ring I give thee, in token and pledge, of my constant faith and devotion."

A muffled cry rang out from the back of the church, and seven sets of eyes made their way back there, though no one could see who it was that made the sound.  After a moment's silence, all eyes finally turned back to the priest and the bride and groom.

Monsignor Dominique smiled at the couple before him, as he intoned the final blessing upon them, and the smiles were returned as he said,  "I now pronounce you, man and wife."  He nodded at the couple before him, and they turned to each other with ecstatic joy.

The final steps between them closed, and silence reigned.  Erik reverently lifted the veil back from her face.  Christine looked into his eyes imploringly, hoping he would understand her silent question.

Erik took his eyes off her for a moment to look out into their small audience warily, fearing the reaction from them and the priest if he granted Christine's wish.  Then he looked back into her eyes, and knew she saw the moment of hesitation there.

"Let me show you,"  she whispered.

Unable to deny her anything, even when warring against the instincts of a lifetime, he nodded his assent as her hands slowly crept up to his face.  He could feel the quiet intake of breath from the pews as Christine's small hands undid the mask and handed it to him.  Her hands went back to his face, and gently guided it down so his lips met her own.  And this time, when the same muffled cry rang out from the area of the nave, neither one heard it.

Finally, the moment ended, and Erik replaced the mask before turning to their guests.  Slowly, Nadir, Meg, Marie and Gerard made their way one by one to the happy couple, congratulating them, and then the six of them continued in high spirits to leave the church.

So, hand in hand, side by side, heart to beating heart, two souls walked out and faced the world together as one.  

****

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Raoul watched in wide eyed wonderment as the party made their way past his hiding spot in the nave, and out the door.

_'She really does love him,'  he thought.  __'There is no other explanation.  She could not have looked upon that face and kissed him like that if she didn't.  I've lost.'_

The Vicomte left the church as quietly as he had come, without fulfilling his mission.  Outside the church, he paused and took the slip of paper he had found in the ledger of the Opera that day just over a week ago.

The blood-red ink on the page mocked him, for he'd known on first sight who it was from.

_Monsieur Firmin,_

_It is with a mixture of pleasure and regret that I inform you that Mademoiselle Daae will require a leave of absence from the Opera.  My intelligence tells me that she is about to be married during Christmas week in __Rouen__.  If you look closely in the chorus, you will notice that there are one or two sopranos who can hold a tune for the time Mademoiselle Daae is away.  Also, I have it on authority that Meg Giry will be accompanying Mademoiselle Daae on her journey.  Madame Giry will likely be informing you of this sometime today, and already has my instruction on who to put in her daughter's place._

_Kindest Regards,_

_O.G.___

His hand now crumpled the paper, what he once thought of as the madman's note.  Today he had not seen a madman as he would have hoped.  Today before Christine, he had seen a man.  If one ignored the mask, then the man appeared quite normal.  If one ignored what lay beyond the mask, as Christine was able to.

The tears made their way down his face, and the passers by noticed this young, well dressed man, standing on the steps of the church on Christmas day, crying as if his heart was broken.

****

****

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They entered the house in high spirits to a small feast that was set out on the table buffet style.  But the first stop was the splendid Christmas tree that graced the drawing room, and under which rested a few presents.  Nadir was the first to make his way to the tree, and he picked up a small box tied with a white bow.

"It's not meant to be a Christmas present, more of a wedding present to the both of you,"  Nadir said simply as he handed the box to Erik and Christine.

Erik and Christine turned to each other, the delight in both their eyes, and together they opened the tiny parcel.  Christine gasped as she saw the little music box, and nearly dropped it, would have dropped it if it had not been for Erik's grasp.

Erik gently lifted the ornate box out of its package, and revealed the figure of a tiny blue and gold bird with a pure white rose.  He stared at it in wonderment for a moment, before he turned to Nadir,  "It's beautiful."

"It's exquisite,"  Christine echoed as her small hand reached out to touch the tiny figures on the box.  Her mind couldn't help but go back to the night Erik told her the story of the nightingale who loved a white rose against the will of Allah.  Her gaze met his, and she could tell he was thinking the same thought.

"It was Nadir who told me the story, all those years ago,"  Erik explained.

Christine smiled as she left the box with Erik, and gave Nadir a short hug.  "Thank you."

"You're both most welcome,"  Nadir replied, returning the embrace before letting her go and allowing her to take her place once again by Erik.

"Now, if all of you will sit down,"  Gerard called out,  "Marie and I also have something for our bride and groom."

Erik and Christine shared a glance, and then did as told.  Marie joined her husband as he walked over to the couple and handed them a small box.

Another glance between Erik and Christine before they opened this second surprise.  Tissue paper abounded in the box, before Erik's hands grasped a small metal object.  He pulled it free of the tissue paper, and revealed a key.

A puzzled look to Gerard from behind the mask, and Gerard smiled.  "That key, Erik, goes to a house on the outskirts of Rouen."

"I don't quite understand,"  Erik puzzled.

"The house originally belonged to your grandfather, Erik, and when he died, it was passed on to Charles.  When your mother discovered the house in Boscherville, of course they moved there, and he had not updated his will after the wedding, so the house was left to me.  As his son, you are more entitled to it, and quite honestly, I have no use for it, one house is enough!"

Erik turned to Christine, almost as if he were questioning her, and she shrugged her shoulders.  He then turned back to Gerard.  "I don't know what to say."

"There is nothing to say, my boy.  I'm certainly not saying you have to give up your life in Paris.  The house is yours to do with as you wish.  Of course, I had figured that the two of you would not want to spend your wedding night in a house full of people.  The house is ready for you if you wish to go there tonight, and after that,"  Gerard trailed off and spread his hands in supplication.

Erik nodded, and slipped the key into his pocket.  He turned to Christine again, and she nodded and rose from the divan.  From under the tree, she produced two packages that were hiding in the back.  One she handed to Marie, the other to Meg.

As she did that, Erik also went to the tree and procured two more packages, and then handed one to Gerard and one to Nadir.  He stood before Nadir, and said _sotto voce,  "I know you do not celebrate Christmas, so this is not a Christmas gift.  Merely a token of thanks for being here with us today."_

"Erik, usually you are not such a terrible liar, but today, I can see the truth in your eyes.  However, I will allow us both to fool ourselves,"  Nadir answered as he opened the intricately wrapped present, and revealed a gold pocket watch.

Nadir looked up in question, and Erik brought Nadir's old one out of his own pocket.

"I merely noticed that your old one was not keeping proper time these days,"  Erik answered as he handed the older watch to Nadir as well.

"I still do not want you to teach me that particular trick."

"Just as well, a good magician never divulges his secrets!"  Erik then turned away from Nadir to face his uncle.

"Do I dare ask how you managed to procure these, Erik?"  Gerard asked as he held the ticket stating him to be owner of a box at the Paris Opera Populaire.

"Let us merely say that a sizable donation was left in your name,"  Erik answered noncommittally.

"Erik, you shouldn't have,"  Gerard deferred.  "How did you even know I liked opera?"

"Well, not many people keep that many opera scores near a piano unless they play at some point."

"But surely you could not have known that before the other night?"

"I beg to differ, I discovered that piano and the scores the first time I was here.  It's not something I can easily miss."

"Well, with your voice, and playing abilities, I suppose not,"  Gerard relented as the two men turned toward the ladies.

Meg and Marie were both opening their presents, and similar gasps issued from them as they both pulled their presents out of the boxes.

Meg's was a beautiful new pair of pristine white toe shoes, and she ran with delight to Christine and embraced her.

"How did you know?"

"Your old shoes were getting a bit worn,"  Christine answered.  "So I thought you would be needing a new pair soon enough.  I know how much you love to dance, and when I saw you admiring them when we took our walk down the Rue de St. Martin a few weeks ago, I knew I had to get them."

"Thank you, this is the best present I could have ever received."

Marie, in the meantime, was rendered speechless as she revealed a sparkling diamond necklace.  Christine made her way in front of her, and watched as her face lit up.

"We weren't quite sure what to get you,"  Christine explained,  "and the necklace was Erik's idea."

"It's breathtaking,"  Marie gasped.

Erik joined Christine at this moment, and he replied with all the formality that had been instilled in him since birth regarding this friend of his mother's,  "I am glad you like it, Madame."

Marie moved to stand before Erik in a way she hadn't since he was a young boy.  She laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, something she also had not done in a long time.  "Erik, don't you think it's high time you dispensed with the formality I know your . . . drummed into your head.  After all, we are family now."

An eyebrow cocked unseen behind the mask.

"If you are going to call Gerard by his given name, I feel it only right that you do the same for me,"  Marie clarified.

They stood like that a moment, before Erik tried out the unfamiliar phrase on his tongue,  "Marie."

The older lady smiled before him, and reached out to embrace the man who'd grown so much from the boy she would always remember.****

****

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

Later that evening, Erik and Christine lay together in the master bedroom of the house Gerard had given to them, silent, and well sated.

Christine reached out a hand to touch Erik's naked face, and brush away a tear that had made its way down his cheek.  "You're crying."

"Only because you have just given me the greatest present I could ever have asked for, Christine," Erik answered as he adjusted them enough so that he could place a kiss on her forehead.

Christine smiled in the moonlight as they lapsed into silence once more in the glorious moonlight.

Soft sighs permeated the air around them as they snuggled under the covers together, and almost in tandem, they each laid a hand over the other's heart as their breathing slowed.  And after a long time, Christine broke the still silence.

"Merry Christmas, Erik."

Erik adjusted himself so that he could gaze down into her eyes, and his smile matched hers.  "Merry Christmas, _mon ange."_

****

****

**_@_****_}-----,-----_****_ *~*~* -----'-----{@_**

**_Finit_**

****

_When you want it the most _

_There's no easy way out_

_When you're ready to go _

_And your heart's left in doubt_

_Don't give up on your faith_

_Love comes to those who believe it_

_And that's the way it is_

_~ Celine Dion, That's The Way It Is_

**Author's Notes:  First off, much credit is deserved to Yami No Eyes for her expert help on the description of Christine's dress.  I will forever be in your debt, m'dear.**

Although I decided in the end to forgo a lot of descriptions of the ball, assume that Marie and Gerard followed tradition there.

In technicality, there is another chapter to the story which I edited out due to the rating of it.  If you are of consenting age (18 in the US) you may find the complete un-edited story on my website http://www.stemwinder.us/Phantom_phics.html Only difference between the two versions is the end of chapter twenty-two and chapter twenty-three.

A big thank you to everyone who reviewed.  I still can not believe I'm done this tale.  As to the possibilities of a sequel . . . I don't know yet.  We shall see what my muse decides.

This is the first time that I have posted as I was writing.  I've never written a cohesive story that was quite as long as this before, so it surprised me as this one seemed to grow and grow.  In the beginning, I imagined about 10 to 15 chapters, and they were originally much smaller.  Then the inspiration flowed, and it spiraled out of control.  I'm proud of my little baby here.

Now that I'm done, I get to go read everyone else!  YIPEEEEE!

Deirdre:  No, he was not wearing the Red Death costume, a bit gory for Christmas, don't you think?

Angel Of Night:  well here it is.  Wonder if the shock is wearing off quite yet from that letter and picture ;-) I originally planned on delving into the party, but the result was I kept tripping up over the dialogue, so . . . trust me, it was much better skipped.

Chicketieboo:  Surprised?  See, it all turned out well in the end, wonder how shocked you were at that!  I still have to e-mail you about hosting it on your website (goodness knows a good story can never get enough coverage) but I need to know which version you want (or, should I say, which rating?)

Ash and Marianne:  I do hope you liked my ending.  I toyed with the idea of Raoul coming out of the woodwork during the wedding, and found I just could not do it.  And I never had any intention of giving Erik an attack before or during this story, merely put it in to add some plot drama . . . now, if I ever write a sequel . . . we shall see.

And now . . . Au revior, mes amies!

****

**_@_****_}-----_****_,-----_****_Stemwinder _****-----'-----{@**


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